Billeder på siden

He hangs between; in doubt, to act, or reft;
In doubt, to deem himself a God, or beast;
In doubt, his mind or body to prefer;
Born, but to die; and reas'ning, but to err:
Chaos of thought and paffion, all confus'd;
Still by himself abus'd, or difabus'd:
Created, half to rife, and half to fall;
Great lord of all things, yet a prey to al':
Sole judge of truth, in endless error hurl'd ;
The glory, jeft, and riddle, of the world!

[blocks in formation]
[ocr errors]

ER muirlands and mountains, rude, barren, and bare,
As wilder'd and weary'd I roam,

A gentle young fhepherdefs fees my despair,

And leads me, o'er lawns, to her home.

Yellow fheafs, from Ceres, her cottage had crown'd;
Green rushes were strew'd on her floor;

Her cafement, sweet woodbines crept wantonly round,
And deck'd the fod feats at her door.

We fat ourselves down to a cooling repast

Fresh fruits!-and fhe cull'd me the best: While, thrown from my guard by fome glances fhe cast, Love lily ftole into my breaft.

I told my foft wifhes: fhe fweetly reply'd

(Ye virgins! her voice was divine)

"I've rich ones rejected, and great ones deny'd:

"But take me, fond fhepherd-I'm thine."


Her air was fo modeft, her afpect fo meek;
So fimple, yet fweet, were her charms;
I kifs'd the ripe rofes that glow'd on her cheek;
And lock'd the lov'd maid in my arms.

Now, jocund, together, we tend a few sheep;
And if, by yon prattler, the ftream,
Reclin'd on her bofom, I fink into fleep,
Her image ftill foftens my dream.

Together, we range o'er the flow rifing hills,
Delighted with pastoral views ;

Or reft on a rock whence the ftreamlet diftils,
And point out new themes for the mufe.

To pomp, or proud titles, fhe ne'er did afpire;
The damfel's of humble defcent:

The cottager, Peace, is well known for her fire,
And fhepherds have nam'd her- Content.





AS God, thou fool! work'd folely for thy good, Thy joy, thy paftime, thy attire, thy food? Who for thy table feeds the wanton fawn, For him, as kindly, fpread the flow'ry lawn. Is it for thee the lark afcends and fings? Joy tunes his voice, joy elevates his wings. Is it for thee the linnet pours his throat? Loves of his own, and raptures," fwell the note. The bounding fteed you pompously beftride, Shares with his lord the pleasure and the pride.

Is thine alone the feed that ftrews the plain?
The birds of heav'n fhall vindicate their grain.
Thine the full harvest of the golden year?
Part pays, and jufily, the deferving steer.
The hog that plows not, nor obeys thy call,
Lives on the labours of this lord of all.

KNOW, nature's children all divide her care: The fur, that warms a monarch, warm'd a bear. While man exclaims, "See all things for my use !" "See man for mine !" replies a pamper'd goofe : And just as fhort of reafon he must fall, Who thinks all made for one, not one for all.





"AY my fong foften, as thy daughters, I, Britannia, hail for beauty is their own, The feeling heart, fimplicity of life,

And elegance, and tafte; the faultless form, Shap'd by the hand of harmony; the cheek, Where the live crimson, through the native white Soft fhooting, o'er the face, diffuses bloom, And ev'ry nameless grace; the parted lip, Like the red-rose bud moift with morning-dew, Breathing delight; and, under flowing jet, Or funny ringlets, or of circling brown, .The neck flight-shaded, and the fwelling breaft; The look refiftlefs, piercing to the foul,

And by the foul inform'd, when, drefs'd in love, She fits, high fmiling, in the conscious eye.





UT, if the rougher fex, by this fierce fport,
hurried wild, let not fuch horrid joy

E'er ftain the bofom of the British fair.

Far be the fpirit of the chafe from them!
Uncomely courage, unbefeeming skill,

To spring the fence, to rein the prancing fteed;
The cap, the whip, the mafculine attire,
In which, they roughen to the sense, and all
The winning foftnefs of their fex is loft.
In them, 'tis graceful to diffolve at woe;
With every motion, every word, to wave,
Quick o'er the kindling cheek, the ready blush;
And, from the fmalleft violence, to shrink
Unequal; in their fears the lovelieft.

O! may their eyes no miferable fight,
Save weeping lovers, fee; a nobler game,
Thro' love's enchanting wiles purfued, yet fled,
In chafe ambiguous. May their tender limbs
Float in the loofe fimplicity of dress
And, fashion'd all to harmony, alone
Know they, to feize the captivated foul,
In rapture warbled from love breathing lips;
To teach the lute to languish; with smooth step,
Disclofing motion in its every charm,

Tofwim along and fwell the mazy dance;
To train the foliage o'er the fnowy lawn;
To guide the pencil; turn the tuneful page;
To lend new flavour to the fruitful year,
And heighten nature's dainties; in their race,

[ocr errors]

M 4


To rear their graces into fecond life;

To give fociety its highest taste;

Well-order'd home man's best delight to make;
And, by fubmiffive wifdom, modest skill, ̈
With every gentle care-eluding art,

To raife the virtues, animate the blifs,
And fweeten all the toils of human life.

This be the female dignity and praise.

[ocr errors][ocr errors][merged small][merged small][merged small]
[ocr errors]

Good, pleasure, eafe, content! whate'er thy name: That fomething, which still prompts th' eternal figh, For which we bear to live, or dare to die : Which still fo near us, yet beyond us lies, O'erlook'd, feen double, by the fool, and wife: Plant of celeftial feed! if dropp'd below, Say, in what mortal foil thou deign'ft to grow: Fair op'ning to fome court's propitious fhrine Or deep with di'monds in the flaming mine? Twin'd with the wreaths Parnaffian laurels yield; Or reap'd in iron harvefts of the field?

Where grows where grows it not? If vain our toil, We ought to blame the culture, not the foil:

Fix'd to no fpot is happinefs fincere ;

"Tis no where to be found, or ev'ry where.

ORDER is heav'n's firft law and, this confeft, Some are, and muft be, greater than the reft;


« ForrigeFortsæt »