From false caresses, causeless strife, Wild hope, vain fear, alike remov'd, Here let me learn the use of life, When best enjoy'd-when most improv❜d. Teach me, thou venerable bower, Cool meditation's quiet seat, The silent grandeur of retreat. When pride, by guilt, to greatness climbs, Bright wisdom, teach me Curio's art, MIDSUMMER; AN ODE. O PHOEBUS! down the western sky, And wake them to the cares of day. And cheer me with a lambent light: Where the green bow'r, with roses crown'd, Come, Stella, queen of all my heart! Thy voice perpetual love inspires. Our murmurs-murmuring brooks return. Sink on the down of Stella's breast, AUTUMN; AN ODE. ALAS! with swift and silent pace, Impatient time rolls on the year; The seasons change, and nature's face Now sweetly smiles, now frowns severe. "Twas spring, 'twas summer, all was gay, Now autumn bends a cloudy brow; The flow'rs of spring are swept away, And summer-fruits desert the bough. The verdant leaves, that play'd on high, And wanton'd on the western breeze, Now, trod in dust, neglected lie, As Boreas strips the bending trees. The fields, that wav'd with golden grain, As russet heaths, are wild and bare; Not moist with dew, but drench'd with rain, Nor health, nor pleasure, wanders there. No more, while through the midnight shade, Beneath the moon's pale orb I stray, Soft pleasing woes my heart invade, As Progne pours the melting lay. From this capricious clime she soars, Vain wish! me fate compels to bear And shiver on a blasted plain. What bliss to life can autumn yield, If glooms, and show'rs, and storms prevail, And Ceres flies the naked field, And flowers, and fruits, and Phoebus fail? Oh! what remains, what lingers yet, To cheer me in the dark'ning hour! The grape remains! the friend of wit, In love, and mirth, of mighty pow'r. Haste-press the clusters, fill the bowl; Apollo shoot thy parting ray: This gives the sunshine of the soul, This god of health, and verse, and day. Still still the jocund strain shall flow, The pulse with vig'rous rapture beat; My Stella with new charms shall glow, And ev'ry bliss in wine shall meet. WINTER; AN ODE. No more the morn, with tepid rays, And Phoebus holds a doubtful sway. By gloomy twilight, half reveal'd, The snow-topp'd cot, the frozen rill. Congeal'd, impetuous show'rs descend; With light and heat my little sphere; And o'er the season wine prevail. When mirth's gay tale shall please no more Nor musick charm-though Stella sings; Nor love, nor wine, the spring restore. Life's a short summer-man a flow'r : THE WINTER'S WALK. BEHOLD, my fair, where'er we rove, The hoary ground, the frowning skies! Nor only through the wasted plain, I feel thy pow'r usurp my breast. Resign the heart to spleen and care; TO MISS ON HER GIVING THE AUTHOR A GOLD AND SILK THOUGH gold and silk their charms unite The heart, once caught, should ne'er be freed? And hide me from the sight of life. 1st edition. ' Printed among Mrs. Williams's Miscellanies. |