I. ON THE SPRING. Lo! where the rosy-bosom'd Hours, Where'er the oak's thick branches stretch Where'er the rude and moss-grown beech Beside some water's rushy brink With me the Muse shall sit, and think (At ease reclined in rustic state) How vain the ardour of the crowd, How low, how little are the proud, How indigent the great! Still is the toiling hand of Care: The panting herds repose: Yet hark, how through the peopled air The busy murmur glows! The insect youth are on the wing, Eager to taste the honied spring, .G And float amid the liquid noon : To Contemplation's sober eye Such is the race of man: And they that creep, and they that fly, Alike the busy and the gay. But flutter through life's little day, In fortune's varying colours drest: Or chill'd by Age, their airy dance They leave, in dust to rest. Methinks I hear in accents low The sportive kind reply: 'Poor moralist! and what art hou? A solitary fly! Thy joys no glittering female meets, On hasty wings thy youth is flown; II. ON THE DEATH OF A FAVOURITE CAT. Drowned in a Tub of Gold Fishes. 'TWAS on a lofty vase's side, Her conscious tail her joy declared; The fair round face, the snowy beard, Her coat, that with the tortoise vies, Her ears of jet, and emerald eyes, She saw; and purr'd applause. Still had she gazed; but 'midst the tide Two angel forms were seen to glide, The Genii of the stream: Their scaly armour's Tyrian hue The hapless Nymph with wonder saw : She stretch'd in vain to reach the prize. What female heart can gold despise? What Cat's averse to fish? Presumptuous Maid! with looks intent (Malignant Fate sate by, and smile) The slipp'ry verge her feet beguiled, She tumbled headlong in. Eight times emerging from the flood, No Dolphin came, no Nereid stirr❜d: From hence, ye beauties, undeceived, Not all that tempts your wand'ring es es III. ON A DISTANT PROSPECT OF “Ανθρωπος ἱκανὴ πρόφασις εἰς τὸ δυστυχεῖν. YE distant spires, ye antique towers, Where grateful Science still adores And ye, that from the stately brow Menander. Of Windsor's heights th' expanse below Of grove, of lawn, of mead survey; Whose turf, whose shade, whose flowers among Wanders the hoary Thames along His silver-winding way! Ah happy hills! ah pleasing shade! Where once my careless childhood stray'd I feel the gales that from ye A momentary bliss bestow, blow As waving fresh their gladsome wing, To breathe a second spring. Say, Father Thames, for thou hast seen To chase the rolling circle's speed, Or urge the flying ball? King Heury the Sixth, founder of the College. While some on earnest business bent 'Gainst graver hours, that bring constraint To sweeten liberty: Some bold adventurers disdain The limits of their little reign, And unknown regions dare descry: Gay hope is theirs, by fancy fed, Alas! regardless of their doom, No sense have they of ills to come, Yet see how all around 'em wait The ministers of human fate, And black Misfortune's baleful train : Ah, shew them where in ambush stand, To seize their prey, the murth'rous band Ah, tell them they are men! These shall the fury Passions tear, -Disdainful Anger, pallid Fear, And Shame that scuiks behind; |