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How often have I paus'd on every charm-
SWEET was the found, when oft, at ev'ning's close, Up yonder hill, the village murmur rose. There, as I pafs'd, with careless steps and flow, The mingling notes came foften'd from below: The fwain, refponfive as the milk-maid fung; 'The fober herd, that low'd to meet their young; The noify geefe, that gabbled o'er the pool The playful children, juft let loofe from fchool; The watch-dog's voice, that bay'd the whisp'ring wind; And the loud laugh, that spoke the vacant mind: Thefe, all, in foft confufion, fought the fhade, And fill'd each paufe the nightingale had made.
ON THE DEATH OF MRS. MASON.
AKE, holy earth! all that my foul holds dear: Take that beft gift, which heav'n fo lately gave. To Briftol's fount I bore, with trembling care, Her faded form. She bow'd to taste the wave
And died. Does Youth, does Beauty read the line?
Ev'n from the grave, thou shalt have power to charm.
Bid them be chafte, be innocent, like thee;
Bid them, in duty's sphere, as meekly move: And, if as fair, from vanity as free,
As firm in friendship, and as fond in love.
Tell them, though 'tis an awful thing to die! ('Twas ev'n to thee) yet, the dread path once trod, Heav'a lifts its everlasting portals high,
the pure in heart behold their God."
AR in a wild, unknown to public view,
'A life fo facred, fuch ferene repose,
So, when a finooth expanfe receives, impreft,
And glinum'ring fragments of a broken fun,
To clear this doubt; to know the world by fight;
THE morn was wafted in the pathless grafs;
Thus ftands an aged elm, in ivy bound;
Now funk the fun: the closing hour of day
Then, led to reft, the day's long toil they drown,
Ar length 'tis morn; and, at the dawn of day, Along the wide canals, the zephyrs play; Fresh, o'er the gay parteries, the breezes creep, And shake the neighbouring wood, to banish sleep. Up rife the guests, obedient to the call; An early banquet deck'd the fplendid hall; Rich luscious wine a golden goblet grac'd, Which the kind mafter forc'd the guests to tafté. Then, pleas'd and thankful, from the porch they go; And, but the landlord, none had caufe of woeHis cup was vanish'd; for, in fecret guise, The younger guest purloin'd the glitt'ring prize.
As one who fees a ferpent in his way,
So feem'd the fire; when, far upon the road,
WHITE thus they pass, the fun his glory shrouds ; The changing skies hang out their fable clouds ; A found in air prefag'd approaching rain; And beafts, to covert, fcud a-cross the plain. Warn'd by the figns, the wand'ring pair retreat, To feek for fhelter at a neighb❜ring feat. 'Twas built with turrets, on a rifing ground; And strong, and large, and unimprov❜d around; Its owner's temper, tim'rous and severe, Unkind, and griping, caus'd a defert there. As near the mifer's heavy doors they drew, Fierce rifing gufts, with fudden fury, blew ; The nimble lightning, mix'd with fhow'rs, began; And, o'er their heads, loud-rolling thunder ran. Here, long they knock; but knock, or call, in vain, Driv'n by the wind, and batter'd by the rain. At length, fome pity warm'd the mafter's breast; ("Twas then his threshold first receiv'd a gueft); Slow creaking, turns the door, with jealous care; And half he welcomes in the fhiv'ring pair. One frugal fagot lights the naked walls, And nature's fervour through their limbs recalls; Bread of the coarseft fort, with meagre wine, (Lach hardly granted) serv'd them both to dine; And, when the tempeft firft appear'd to cease, A ready warning bid them part in peace.
WITH ftill remark, the pond'ring hermit view'd, In one fo rich, a life fo poor and rude: