Then ask ye from what source on earth
Virtues like these derived their birth?
Derived from Heaven alone :

Full on that favour'd breast they shine
Where faith and resignation join
To call the blessing down.

Such is that heart-but while the muse
Thy theme, O Richardson, pursues,
Her feebler spirits faint,

She cannot reach, and shall not wrong
That subject for an angel's song,

The hero and the saint.

A SONG.

THE sparkling eye, the mantling cheek,
The polish'd front, the snowy neck,
How seldom we behold in one!
Glassy locks, and brow serene,
Venus' smiles, Diana's mien,

All meet in you, and you alone.

Beauty, like other powers, maintains
Her empire, and by union reigns;

Each single feature faintly warms :
But where at once we view display'd
Unblemish'd grace, the perfect maid
Our eyes, our ears, our heart alarms.

So when on earth the god of day
Obliquely sheds his temper'd ray,

Through convex orbs the beams transmit, The beams that gently warm'd before, Collected, gently warm no more,

But glow with more prevailing heat.

A SONG.

On the green margin of the brook
Despairing Phyllida reclined,
Whilst every sigh and every look,
Declared the anguish of her mind.

"Am I less lovely, then ?" she cries,
And in the waves her form survey'd ;
"Oh yes, I see my languid eyes,

My faded cheek, my colour fled :
These eyes no more like lightning pierced,
These cheeks grew pale when Damon first
His Phyllida betray'd.

"The rose he in his bosom wore,

How oft upon my breast was seen!
And when I kiss'd the drooping flower,
'Behold,' he cried, 'it blooms again!'
The wreaths that bound my braided hair,
Himself next day was proud to wear
At church or on the green."

While thus sad Phyllida lamented,
Chance brought unlucky Thyrsis on,
Unwillingly the nymph consented,
But Damon first the cheat begun.
He wiped the fallen tears away,

Then sigh'd and blush'd, as who should say,
Ah! Thyrsis, I am won.”

TO DELIA.

1775.

ME to whatever state the gods assign,
Believe, my love, whatever state be mine,
Ne'er shall my breast one anxious sorrow know,
Ne'er shall my heart confess a real woe;
If to thy share Heaven's choicest blessings fall,
As thou hast virtue to deserve them all :

F

Yet vain, alas! that idle hope would be
That builds on happiness remote from thee.
Oh! may thy charms, whate'er our fate decrees,
Please, as they must, but let them only please-
Not like the sun with equal influence shine,
Nor warm with transport any heart but mine.
Ye who from wealth th' ill grounded title boast
To claim whatever beauty charms you most;
Ye sons of fortune, who consult alone

Her parent's will, regardless of her own,
Know that a love like ours, a generous flame,
No wealth can purchase, and no power reclaim.
The soul's affection can be only given
Free, unextorted, as the grace of Heaven.

Is there whose faithful bosom can endure
Pangs fierce as mine, nor ever hope a cure?
Who sighs in absence of the dear loved maid,
Nor summons once indifference to his aid?
Who can, like me, the nice resentment prove,
The thousand soft disquietudes of love;
The trivial strifes that cause a real pain;
The real bliss when reconciled again.
Let him alone dispute the real prize,
And read his sentence in my Delia's eyes;
There shall he read all gentleness and truth,
But not himself, the dear distinguish'd youth;
Pity for him perhaps they may express-
Pity, that will but heighten his distress.

But, wretched rival! he must sigh to see
The sprightlier rays of love directed all to me.
And thou, dear antidote of every pain

Which fortune can inflict, or love ordain,
Since early love has taught thee to despise
What the world's worthless votaries only prize,
Believe, my love! no less the generous god
Rules in my breast, his ever blest abode ;
There has he driven each gross desire away,
Directing every wish and every thought to thee!
Then can I ever leave my Delia's arms,

A slave, devoted to inferior charms ?
Can e'er my soul her reason so disgrace ?
For what blest minister of heavenly race
Would quit that heaven to find a happier place?

ODE

SUPPOSED TO BE WRITTEN ON THE MARRIAGE OF A FRIEND.

THE magic lyre, whose fascinating sound

Seduced the savage monsters from their cave;
Drew rocks and trees, and forms uncouth around,
And bade wild Hebrus hush his listening wave;
No more thy undulating waters flow
O'er Thracian wilds of everlasting snow!

Awake to sweeter sounds, thou magic lyre,
And paint a lover's bliss- a lover's pain —
Far nobler triumphs now thy notes inspire, -
For, see, Euridice attends thy strain ;
Her smile, a prize beyond the conjurer's aim
Superior to the cancell'd breath of fame.

From her sweet brow to chase the gloom of care,
To check that tear that dims the beaming eye,
To bid her heart the rising sigh forbear,

And flush her orient cheek with brighter joy,
In that dear breast soft sympathy to move,
And touch the springs of rapture and of love.
Ah me! how long, bewilder'd and astray,

Lost and benighted, did my footsteps rove,
Till, sent by Heaven to cheer my pathless ray,
A star arose the radiant star of love.
The god, propitious, join'd our willing hands,
And Hymen wreathed us in his rosy bands.

Yet not the beaming eye, or placid brow,
Or golden tresses, hid the subtle dart;
To charms superior far than those I bow,

And nobler worth enslaves my vanquish'd heart;
The beauty, elegance, and grace combined,
Which beam transcendent from that angel mind;

While vulgar passions - meteors of a day!

Expire before the chilling blasts of age,

Our holy flame, with pure and steady ray,

Its glooms shall brighten, and its pangs assuage;

By Virtue, sacred vestal, fed, shall shine

And warm our fainting souls with energy divine.

An abiding attachment for all the friends of his youth distinguished Cowper in every period of his life. During his early manhood, his most intimate associates were those of his class-fellows at Westminster, whom chance or professional study had settled again in the capital. Twenty or thirty years of sickness and seclusion seem to have wrought no change in his feelings here. We clearly see, from his letters, for instance, that Thurlow's temporary neglect of his first volume hurt him more deeply than even the inattention of the public. And where his judgment or opinion forbade him to commend, his heart refused to disapprove. A remarkable example of this occurs in his conduct on the trial of his old schoolfellow, Warren Hastings, when he sent privately, for publication in the newspapers, some touching lines, appealing to national generosity in favour of a more liberal treatment of the ex-governor-general, whom he had neither seen nor heard from since they had parted at Westminster.

Of all these early friends, Cowper appears to have been attached to none more warmly than to Lloyd. To assist him in various literary undertakings, he is supposed to have written a number of pieces, both in prose and verse, which cannot now be identified. Besides the talents and amiable, though thoughtless, dispositions of Lloyd, many associations concurred to strengthen this connection. They had studied together under Lloyd's father, who officiated as usher and under master of Westminster for half a century. * At the period of which we now write, both cultivating similar tastes, and Cowper having leisure and ability thus to serve his friend,

* In a translation of some later verses on the death of Dr Lloyd, who retired from Westminster on a pension from George III, the following notice is prefixed :— "I make no apology for the introduction of the following lines, (the original Latin,) though I never learned who wrote them. Their elegance will sufficiently recommend them to persons of classical taste and erudition, and I shall be happy if the English version that they have received from me be found not to dishonour them. Affection for the memory of the worthy man whom they celebrate, alone prompted me to this endeavour.-W. COWPER."