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Methinks I see the jocund band
Their artless symphony inspire;
And wake the sympathetic lyre.
The rose's aromatic bloom
Adorns their wild fantastic grove, And o'er the violet's perfume
Angelic forms delighted rove;
And soothes entranced Despair to rest;
Implanted in a female breast.
Careless tripping o'er the green
The sprightly Deshoulieres appears With winning air and brow serene,
Unclouded by the frown of years ; Around the Nymph in graceful state A thousand smiling Cupids wait,
And each performs his destined part; Some give the cheeks a livelier glow, Some tune the lyre, some twang the bow,
To pierce the most obdurate heart.
The plaintive Rowe, whose warbling breath
Dispersed the melancholy gloom Which at her dear Alexis' death
O’erhung the sickening vales of Frome, To the soft Cyprian lute recites The fears, the hopes, the fond delights,
The tender blandishments of love, Their mutual happiness completing, Where Innocence and Pleasure meeting,
Have fix'd them in the realms above. Beside them Cytherea stands
In Virtue's snowy garb array'd,
Severed by Death's remorseless blade;
In which their mortal ashes lie,
The pledge of immortality.
Whene'er I wake the Teian string,
To' unlock Castalia's vaunted spring : The palms of Genius thinly spread Where cypress glooms o'erarch the dead
Let others glean :-My raptured ear Has caught the soul-enchanting strains That on Salopia's happy plains
The bright Sabrina joys to hear : She, blameless Nymph, whose piteous doom
Poetic annalists relate, Immersed in Severn's watery tomb
By Guendoline's remorseless hate,
Diversify the broider'd green,
By meditating shepherds seen.
If worn Tradition's specious tales,
In Fiction's gaudy mantle dress'd, Were wont to celebrate her vales
With Nature's bounteous treasures bless'd; Fame hiding more than half her blaze Reserved to crown these later days
Her greatest her most envied pride, That while her banks thy numbers grace, The Goddess sees thy fairer face
Reflected in her glassy tide. Ask we on what terrestrial plain
The Graces condescend to dwell,
So aptly strikest the chorded shell?
Euphrosyne derived her birth,
:-Our dazzled sight, Struck with ineffable delight, Has found her parallel on earth.
ON A SERMON AGAINST GLORY.
COME then, tell me, sage divine,
So conciliate Reason's choice,
If to spurn at noble praise
Than Timoleon's arms acquire,
THE MAN OF TASTE.
HENCE! phantom! weak and vain,
Nursed by Conceit and Scorn!
Go! Hoyden, as thou art
Changed, evermore to change!
The shifting vane to catch,
Show'd heavenly pencilling! What time
Her the thought-wrapt being spied
Come! decent nymph! in ample vest Of seemly suited colours dress’d!Come thou, Taste! and bring with thee The maiden, meek Simplicity !Come! and give mine eye to stray, Where thou deignest to display Thy dædal power, such grace to teach, As Nature loves, but cannot reach!
Let us oft our visit pay (In the pure matin prime of day, Ere the high sun hath drunk the dews) To where the poet courts the Muse! Him, I mean, who bows the knee, In homage still submits to thee! Whom thy steady rule hath taught To form the plan and point the thought ; To passion all its voice to give, And bid the warm description live!