« AnteriorContinuar »
V E R S E S,
WRITTEN AT THE REQUEST OF A GENTLEMAN TO WHOM A LADY HAD GIVEN A
SPRIG OF MYRTLE*.
HA T hopes, what terrors, does this gift create ?
Ambiguous emblem of uncertain fate.
* These verses were firft printed in a Magazine for 1768, But were written between forty and fifty years ago. Elegant as they are, they were composed in the Mort space of five minutes.
To Lady FIRE BRACE*,
At BURY ASSIZES.
T length must Suffolk beauties shine in vain,
So long renown'd in B-n's deathless strain ? Thy charms at least, fair Firebrace, might inspire Some zealous bard to wake the sleeping lyre; For, such thy beauteous mind and lovely face, Thou seem'st at once, bright nymph, a Muse and
To LYCE, an elderly Lady.
By flattering poets given,
of Heaven ;
Engrofs not all the beams on high,
Which gild a lover's lays, But, as your fister of the sky,
Let Lyce share the praise.
* This lady was Bridget, third daughter of Philip Bacon, Esq. of Ipfwich, and relict of Philip Evers, Esq. of that town. She became the second wife of Sir Cordell Firebrace, the last Baronet of that name (to whom she brought a fortune of 25,000l.), July 26, 1737. Being again left a widow in 1759, she was a third time married, April 7, 1762, to William Campbell, Esq. uncle to the present Duke of Argyle; and died July 3, 1782.
To Miss *****
ON HER PLAYING UPON THE HAR PSICHORD IN A
ROOM HUNG WITH FLOWER-PIECES
OF HER OWN PAINTING*.
hen Stella strikes the tuneful ftring WHEN
In scenes of imitated Spring,
, Nor tempt the snares of wily love.
When charms thus press on every sensc,
But on those regions of delight
* Printed among Mrs. Williams's Miscellanics.
Mark when from thousand mingled dyes Thou seest one pleasing form arise, How active light, and thoughtful shade, In greater scenes each other aid. Mark when the different notes agree In friendly contrariety, How paffion's well accorded strife Gives all the harmony of life; Thy pictures shall thy conduct frame, Confiftent still, though not the same ; Thy musick teach the nobler art, To tune the regulated heart.
EVENING: an Ode.
To ST E L L A.
VENING now from purple wings
Sheds the grateful gifts the brings;
Light that seems but just to show
Τ Ο Τ Η Ε S A ME.
Fix'd on earth, or glancing round,
If on her we see display'd
Vain the casual, tranfient glance,