For public haunts, impell'd by Britain's weal,
See Grenville quit the Mufe's favourite ease;
And fhall not fwains admire his noble zeal ?
Admiring praise, admiring strive to please ?
Life, fays the fage, affords no bliss fincere;

And courts and cells in vain our hopes renew: But ah! where Grenvile charms the liftening ear, "Tis hard to think the chearless maxim true. The groves may fmile; the rivers gently glide; Soft through the vale refound the lonesome lay. Ev'n thickets yield delight, if taste prefide; But can they pleafe, when Lyttelton's away? Pure as the fwain's the breast of *** glows, Ah! were the shepherd's phrase, like his, refin'd! But, how improv'd the generous dictate flows Through the clear medium of a polish'd mind! Happy the youths who, warm with Britain's love, Her inmoft with in **** 's periods hear! Happy that in the radiant circle move,

Attendant orbs, where Lonfdale gilds the fphere! While rural faith, and every polish'd art,

Each friendly charm, in *** confpire,
From public fcenes all penfive must you part;
All joyless to the greeneft fields retire!

Go, plaintive youth! no more by fount or stream,
Like fome lone halcyon, focial pleasure shun;
Go dare the light, enjoy its chearful beam,
And hail the bright proceffion of the fun.

Then cover'd by thy ripen'd shades, resume
The filent walk; no more by passion toft:
Then feek thy ruftic haunts; the dreary gloom,
Where every art, that colours life, is loft.”.
In vain the liftening Muse attends in vain!
Restraints in hoftile bands her motions wait→
-Yet will I grieve, and fadden all my ftrain,
When injur'd beauty mourns the Muse's fate.

TO DELIA, with fome flowers; complaining how much his benevolence suffers on account of his humble fortune.

W

Hate'er could fculpture's curious art employ,

Whate'er the lavish hand of wealth can fhower, These would I give-and every gift enjoy, That pleas'd my fair-but fate denies the power. Bleft were my lot to feed the focial fires !

To learn the latent wishes of a friend!

To give the boon his native taste admires,
And, for my transport, on his fmile depend
Bleft too is he, whofe evening ramble strays,
Where droop the fons of indigence and care!
His little gifts their gladden'd eyes amaze,
And win, at fmall expence, their fondest prayer!

And

And oh the joy! to fhun the confcious light,
To fpare the modest blush; to give unseen!
Like fhowers that fall behind the veil of night,
Yet deeply tinge the fmiling vales with green.
But happiest they, who drooping realms relieve!
Whose virtue in our cultur'd vales appear!
For whofe fad fate a thousand fhepherds grieve,
And fading fields allow the grief fincere.
To call loft worth from its oppressive shade;
To fix its equal sphere, and fee it shine;
To hear it grateful own the generous aid;
This, this is tranfport-but muft ne'er be mine
Faint is my bounded blifs; nor I refuse

To range where daizies open, rivers roll; While profe or fong the languid hours amuse, And foothe the fond impatience of my foul. A while I'll weave the roofs of jafmine bowers, And urge with trivial cares the loitering year; A while I'll prune my grove, protect my flowers,

Then, unlamented, prefs an early bier! Of thofe lov'd flowers the lifeless corfe may fhare

Some hireling hand a fading wreath bestow : The reft will breathe as fweet, will glow as fair,

As when their master smil'd to see them glow. The fequent morn shall wake the fylvan quire;

The kid again fhall wanton ere 'tis noon; Nature will fimile, will wear her beft attire; O! let not gentle Delia smile so soon!

While the rude hearfe conveys me flow away,
And careless eyes my vulgar fate proclaim,
Let thy kind tear my utmost worth o'erpay;
And, foftly fighing, vindicate my fame.-
O Delia! chear'd by thy fuperior praise,

I blefs the filent path the fates decree ;
Pleas'd, from the lift of my inglorious days,

To raze the moments crown'd with blifs and thee.

Defcribing the forrow of an ingenuous mind, on the melancholy event of a licentious amour.

HY mourns my

friend! why weeps his down

WH

caft eye!

That eye where mirth, where fancy us'd to shine? Thy chearful meads reprove that fwelling figh; Spring ne'er enamel'd fairer meads than thine. Art thou not lodg'd in fortune's warm embrace? Wert thou not form'd by nature's partial care? Bleft in thy song, and blest in every grace

That wins the friend, or that enchants the fair? Damon, faid he, thy partial praise restrain;

Not Damon's friendship can my peace restore; Alas! his very praise awakes my pain,

And my poor wounded bofom bleeds the more. For oh! that nature on my birth had frown'd, Or fortune fix'd me to fome lowly cell; Then had my bofom 'fcap'd this fatal wound,

Nor had I bid thefe vernal fweets, farewel.

But

But led by fortune's hand, her darling child,
My youth her vain licentious blifs admir`d;
In fortune's train the fyren flattery fmil'd,
And rafhly hallow'd all her queen inspir'd.
Of folly studious, ev'n of vices vain,

Ah vices! gilded by the rich and gay!
I chas'd the guilelefs daughters of the plain,
Nor dropt the chase, till Jeffy was my prey.
Poor artless maid! to ftain thy fpotlefs name,
Expence, and art, and toil, united strove;
To lure a breaft that felt the purest flame,

Suftain'd by virtue, but betray'd by love.
School'd in the fcience of love's mazy wiles,

I cloath'd each feature with affected fcorn;
I spoke of jealous doubts, and fickle smiles,

And, feigning, left her anxious and forlorn.
Then, while the fancy'd rage alarm'd her care,
Warm to deny, and zealous to disprove ;
I bade my words the wonted softness wear,
And feiz'd the minute of returning love.

To thee, my Damon, dare I paint the rest?
Will yet thy love a candid ear incline?
Affur'd that virtue, by misfortune preft,
Feels not the sharpness of a pang like mine.
Nine envious moons matur'd her growing shame;
Ere-while to flaunt it in the face of day;
When, fcorn'd of virtue, stigmatiz'd by fame,
Low at my feet defponding Jeffy lay.

"Henry's