WRITTEN IN FARINGDON PARK,

JULY 27, 1770.

DELIGHTFUL Scenes! yet once again

My voice shall make your echoing shades resound ;-
Well nigh had every jocund strain

In baleful Sorrow's sable fount been drown'd:
Already had the dread behest

Through Fate's eternal portal pass'd:
Pale Death, in all his terrors drest,

Sternly prepar'd my every wish to blast,
What time he shook enrag'd his thirsty dart,
And aim'd the fatal point to rive Maria's.heart.

Ye much-lov'd Nymphs of Pindus! where
Had then, alas! your faithful vot'ry been?
What had ye tried to sooth his care?
What mournful lays? what wreaths of willow green?
When urg'd along by Fancy's fire

To wake the melancholy song,

Raptur'd we strike the silver wire,

And soft the pensive numbers flow along:

But when the iron scourge affliction rears,

Our plaints are chok'd by sighs, our strains dissolv'd in

tears.

All-potent Heaven, thy wondrous ways

How intricate!-Yet all thy 'hests how just!

The flattering schemes our wishes raise, How soon thy judgments humble to the dust. While, void of grief, my artless hand Describ'd each smiling lawn and grove; While blooming scenes my fancy plann'd,

The seats of future ease and growing love,— Thy word had nearly scal'd the dreadful doom; Giv'n to the winds my schemes, my wishes to the tomb.

From the drear mansion of the dead
What gracious Being snatch'd Maria's charms!
And, raising from the grave her head,
Restor❜d her beauties to my longing arms?—
'Twas He! the ever-watchful power!
Man's feeble offspring to defend,
Who o'er me in the mortal hour,

As in the natal, shall his wings extend. 'Twas He who wak'd to life the senseless clod; Blest source of every good-my Guardian, and my God!

For this, Maria! let us still
In Him, the eternal fount of joy, confide;
Bend all our passions to his will,
And let his laws our every action guide:

So, while the friendly Power above

For ever guards each faithful head,

Sweet Concord and Connubial Love

Shall in our breasts their kindly influence shed: Soft Peace shall smile with each returning light, And bridal rapture glow through every blissful night.

ΤΟ

TO A LADY,

IN RETURN FOR SOME VERSES.

LET envious critics frown or smile,
'Tis equal in my eyes:
Their warmest censure or applause
I now alike despise.

A wreath beyond the wreath of fame
Shall now adorn my lays:
Who shall the verse presume to blame
Which Wit and Beauty praise?

My vagrant Muse, return once more,
To greet the approving fair;
Receive new Beauty from her eyes,
And learn Refinement there.

But should the praises I receive
From partial favour flow;
That partial favour joy must give

That faine can ne'er bestow.

• Alluding to a Foem on Beauty and the Progress of Refinement.

ON

ON QUITTING THE NEIGHBOURHOOD OF
SOUTHAMPTON, IN 1792*.

Addressed to the Southampton Archers, and sung at their Lodge.

To

o thy scenes, lovely Southton, adieu!

To thy valleys with Tempe that vie; And adieu to thy sons, all as true as thy tides, And thy daughters as bright as thy sky.

And you, my brave comrades, adieu!

For my lyre is, alas! now unstrung:

Tho' rude was my touch, and tho' harsh was my strain, Yet your candour approv'd what I sung.

But though from thy nymph-haunted shores,
Unwilling, I'm doom'd to remove;

Shall my heart ever wander from regions endear'd
By Gratitude, Friendship, and Love?

No:-while Memory here holds her seat;

While the current of life swells my veins; So long, lovely Southton, Affection for thee In my bosom unalter'd remains.

* This, and several other of the Poems of this amiable Writer, dated from Southampton and New Forest, are, in a peculiar manner, appropriate to the Scenery of the Hampshire Station in Volume the First.

GLEANER.

ON

ON THE BIRTH-DAY OF AN INFANT

AGED ONE YEAR.

THOUGH the green leaf, with envious veil,
Awhile the rosebud's hues conceal,

Yet from the parent-stock we know
How bright its crimson tints shall glow;
What sweets its silken leaves disclose,
When time unfolds the full-blown rose.

Sweet bud of May! thy infant grace,
Thy laughing eye, thy smiling face,
Are harmless yet; for, in those eyes
No secret Love in ambush, lies;
No Cupid lurks beneath that smile,
The gazer's bosom to beguile."

prove,

But when, matur'd by ripening years, In virgin pride cach charm appears, Then many a youth their force shall And bow before the power of love; While crowds, with admiration, see A new Georgina bloom in thee.

SONNET.