ET others travel with inceffant pain,
LET others travel with incefferano fecure;
Then with fond hopes carefs the precious bane,
In grandeur abject, and in affluence poor.
But foon, too foon! in Fancy's timid eyes
Wild waves fhall roll, and conflagrations spread;
While bright in arms, and of gigantick fize,
The fear-form'd robber haunts the thorny bed.
Let me, in dreadless poverty retir'd,
The real joys of life unenvy'd fhare:
Favour'd by Love, and by the Muse infpir'd,
I'll yield to wealth it's jealousy and care.
On rifing ground, the profpect to command,
Unting'd with smoke, where vernal breezes blow,
In rural neatness let my cottage stand;
Here wave a wood, and there a river flow.
Oft from the neigbouring hills and pastures round,
Let sheep with tender bleat falute my ear;
Nor fox infiduous haunt the guiltless ground,
Nor man pursue the trade of murder near.
Far hence, kind Heaven! expel the favage train,
Inur'd to blood, and eager to destroy;
Who pointed steel with recent flaughter ftain,
And place in groans and death their cruel joy.
of focial life and tender fong!
To you devoted shall my fields remain;
Here, undisturb'd, the peaceful day prolong,
Nor own a smart, but Love's delightful pain.
For you, my trees shall wave their leafy shade;
For you, my gardens tinge the lenient air;
For you, be Autumn's blushing gifts difplay'd,
And all that Nature yields of sweet or fair.
But, O! if plaints which love and grief inspire,
In heav'nly breafts could e'er compassion find,
Grant me, ah! grant my heart's fupreme defire,
And teach my dear Urania to be kind.
For her, black Sadness clouds my brightest day;
For her, in tears the midnight vigils roll;
For her, cold horrors melt my powers away,
And chill the living vigour of my foul.
Beneath her fcorn each youthful ardour dies,
It's joys, it's wishes, and it's hopes, expire!
In vain the fields of Science tempt my eyes;
In vain for me the Mufes ftring the lyre.
O! let her oft my humble dwelling grace;
Humble no more, if there fhe deign to shine :
For Heav'n, unlimited by time or place,
Still waits on god-like worth, and charms divine.
Amid the cooling fragrance of the morn,
How sweet with her thro' lonely fields to ftray!
Her charms the lovelieft landscape shall adorn,
And add new glories to the rifing day.
3 H
With her, all Nature fhines in heighten'd bloom,
The filver ftream in fweeter mufick flows; Odours more rich the fanning gales perfume, And deeper tinctures paint the fpreading rofe.
With her, the fhades of night their horrors lofe,
It's deepest filence charms if the be by;
Her voice the mufick of the dawn renews,
It's lambent radiance fparkles in her eye.
How fweet, with her, in Wifdom's calm recefs,
To brighten foft defire with wit refin'd!
Kind Nature's laws with facred Ashley trace,
And view the fairest features of the mind!
Or borne on Milton's flight, as Heav'n fublime,
View it's full blaze in open prospect glow;
Blefs the first pair in Eden's happy clime,
Or drop the human tear for endless woe.
And when, in virtue and in peace grown old,
No arts the languid lamp of life restore;
Her let me grasp with hands convuls'd and cold,
Till ev'ry nerve, relax'd, can hold no more.
Long, long on her my dying eyes fufpend,
Till the laft beam shall vibrate on my fight;
Then foar where only greater joys attend,
And bear her image to eternal light.
Fond man, ah! whither would thy fancy rove?
'Tis thine to languifh in unpity'd smart;
'Tis thine, alas! eternal fcorn to prove,
Nor feel one gleamo f comfort warm thy heart.
But if my fair this cruel law impofe,
Pleas'd, to her will I all my foul refign; To walk beneath the burden of my woes, Or fink in death, nor at my fate repine.
Yet when, with woes unmingled and fincere,
To earth's cold womb in filence I defcend;
Let her, to grace my obfequies, appear,
And with the weeping throng her forrows blend.
Ah, no! be all her hours with pleasure crown'd,
And all her foul from ev'ry anguish free:
Should my fad fate that gentle bofom wound,
The joys of heaven would be no joys to me.
RE yet I fing the round revolving year,
And show the toils and paftime of the swain,
At Alcon's grave I drop a pious tear;
Right well he knew to raise his learned ftrain,
And, like his Milton, fcorn'd the rhiming chain.
Ah, cruel Fate! to tear him from our eyes;
Receive this wreathe, albe the tribute's vain;
From the green fod may flowers immortal rife,
To mark the facred spot where the sweet poet lies
* Mr. Thomfon, author of the Seafons.
It is the cuckow that announceth fpring,
And with his wreakful tale the fpoufe doth fray;
Meanwhile the finches harmlefs ditties fing,
And hop, in buxom youth, from spray to fpray,
Proud as Sir Paridel of rich array.
The little wantons that draw Venus' team,
Chirp amorous thro' the grove in beavies gay;
And he, who erft gain'd Leda's fond esteem,
Now fails on Thamis' tide, the glory of the stream!
Proud as the Turkifh foldan, chaunticleer
Sees, with delight, his numerous race around;
He grants fresh favours to each female near:
For love as well as cherifaunce renown'd,
The waddling dame that did the Gauls confound,
Her tawny fons doth lead to rivers cold;
While Juno's dearling, with majestick bound,
To charm his leman doth his train unfold,
That glows with vivid green, that flames with burning gold,
The balmy cowflip gilds the fmiling plain,
The virgin fnow-drop boasts her filver hue;
An hundred tints the gaudy daify stain ;
And the meek violet, in amis blue,
Creeps low to earth, and hides from publick view:
But the rank nettle rears her creft on high;
So ribaulds loofe their front unblushing shew, While modeft merit doth neglected lie,
And pines in lonely fhade, unfeen of vulgar eye,
See all around the gall-lefs culvers bill,
Meanwhile the nightingale's becalming lays
Mix with the plaintive mufick of the rill,
The which in various gyres the meadow bays,
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