1

To the banks, a ruffled tide

Verges in fucceffive rings.

Tripping thro' the filken grafs,
O'er the path-divided dale,

Mark the rofe-complexion'd lass

With her well-pois'd milking pail.

Linnets, with unnumber'd notes,
And the cuckoo bird with two,
Tuning fweet their mellow throats,
Bid the fetting fun adieu,

CUNNINGHAM.

A FEMALE CHARACTER.

HER kindly melting heart,
To every want and every woe;
To guilt itself, when in diftrefs,
The balm of pity would impart,

And all relief that bounty could bestow!
E'en for the kid or lamb that pour'd its life
Beneath the bloody knife,

Her gentle tears would fall,

As fhe the common mother were of all,

Nor only good, and kind,

But ftrong and elevated was her mind
A fpirit, that with noble pride,
Could look fuperior down

On fortune's fmile, or frown;

That could, without regret or pain,
To Virtue's loweft duty facrifice,

:

Or Intereft's or Ambition's highest prize;
That, injur'd or offended, never try'd
Its dignity by vengeance to maintain,
But by magnanimous disdain
A Wit that temperately bright,
With inoffenfive light,

All pleafing fhone, nor ever past

The decent bounds, that Wisdom's fober hand,
And fweet Benevolence's mild command,
And bashful Modesty before it caft,
A prudence, undeceiving, undeceiv'd;
That nor too little, nor too much believ'd:
That fcorn'd unjust Suspicion's coward fear,
And without weakness knew to be fincere.

LYTTELTON.

LIFE.

O WHY do wretched men so much defire
To draw their days unto the utmost date,
And do not rather with them foon expire,
Knowing the misery of their estate,

And thousand perils which them still await, Toffing themselves like boat amid the main,

That every hour they knock at death's gate? And he that happy feems, and leaft in pain, Is yet as nigh his end, as he that most doth 'plain.

The whiles fome one did chaunt their lovely lay,
Ah fee, who so fair thing doft fain to fee,
In fpringing flower the image of thy day;
All fee thy virgin rofe how fweetly she

Doth firft peep forth with bashful modefty,
That fairer feems, the lefs you fee her may;
Lo! fee foon after, how more bold and free
Her bared bofom the doth broad difplay;
Lo! fee foon after, how the fades and falls away.

So paffeth in the paffing of a day,

Of mortal Life the leaf, the bud, the flower,

No more doth flourish after first decay,

That erft was fought to deck both bed and bower

Of many a lady, and many a paramour; Gather the rofe of love, whilft yet is time,

While loving thou mayft loved be, without a

crime.

SPENSER.

ODE TO GOOD-NATURE.

HAIL, Cherub of the highest heav'n,
Of look divine, and temper even,

Celestial sweetness, exquisite of mien,
Of every virtue, every praife the queen!

Soft gracefulness, and blooming youth,
Where, grafted on the ftem of truth,

That friendship reigns, no intereft can divide,
And great Humility looks down on Pride.

Oh! curfe on Slander's vip'rous tongue,
That daily dares thy merit wrong;
Idiots ufurp thy title and thy fame,

Without or virtue, talent, taste, or name,

Is apathy, is heart of steel,

Nor ear to hear, nor fenfe to feel,

Life idly inoffenfive fuch a grace,

That it should steal thy name, and take thy place?

No-thou art active, spirit all,

Swifter than lightning, at the call

Of injur❜d innocence, or griev'd defert,

And large with liberality thy heart,

Thy appetites in easy tides

(As Reafon's luminary guides)

Soft, flow, no wind can work them to a storm,
Correctly quick, difpaffionately warm.

Yet, if a tranfport thou canft feel,

'Tis only for a neighbour's weal;

Great, generous acts thy ductile paffions move, And fmilingly thou weep'ft with joy and love.

Mild is thy mind to cover. fhame,

Averfe to envy, flow to blame,

Bursting to praise, yet ftill fincere and free,
From flattery's fawning tongue, and bending knee.

Extenfive, as from west to east,

Thy love defcends from man to beast,