A SONNE T; written at W WT in the Absence of -. By the Same. DE DE, thy beechen flopes with waving grain Border'd, thine azure views of wood and lawn, Whilom could charm, or when the joyous Dawn 'Gan Night's dun robe with flushing purple stain, Or Evening drove to fold her woolly train; Her fairest landscapes whence my Muse has drawn, Too free with fervile courtly phrafe to fawn, Too weak to try the Bufkin's stately strain; Yet now no more thy flopes of beech and corn Nor profpects charm, fince He far-distant strays With whom I trac'd their sweets each eve and morn, From Albion far, to cull Hefperian bays; In this alone they please, howe'er forlorn, That still they can recall thofe happier days. **** On BATHING. A SONNET. By the Same. WHEN late the trees were stript by Winter pale, Fair HEALTH, a Dryad-maid in vefture green, Rejoyc'd to rove 'mid the bleak fylvan scene, On airy uplands caught the fragrant gale, And ere fresh morn the low-couch'd lark did hail Watching the found of earliest horn was seen. But fince gay Summer, thron'd in chariot fheen, Is come to fcorch each primrose sprinkled dale, She chooses that delightful cave beneath The cryftal treasures of meek Ifis' ftream; And now all glad the temperate air to breathe, While cooling drops diftil from arches dim, Binding her dewy locks with fedgy wreath She fits amid the quire of Naiads trim. To To Lady H-Y. By Mr. de VOLTAIRE. H --Y Y would you know the paffion You have kindled in Trifling is the inclination my breast, That by words can be exprefs'd. In my filence fee the lover, True love is by filence known; On Sir ROBERT WALPOLE's Birth-day, A AUGUST the 26th. By the Honourable Mr. D- -TON. LL hail, aufpicious day, whose wish'd return Bids every breaft with grateful ardor burn, His foul capacious, yet his judgment clear, His The greatest Prince, the foremost son of fame, ttttttt ttttttt The Lawyer's Farewell to his Mufe. Written in the Year 1744. S, by fome tyrant's ftern command, A wretch forfakes his native land, An endless exile from his home; Penfive Penfive he treads the deftin'd way, And dreads to go, nor dares to ftay; There, melting at the well-known view, Serenely gay, and sweetly fage, Where fervent bees, with humming voice, Then all was joyous, all was young, And years unheeded roll'd along : But |