Which charms each ravish'd fenfe

The ruin'd Abbey's rooflefs iles,
And all the venerable spoils

Of funk magnificence

VIII.

The verdant lawns, the wood-crown'd hills,
The limpid lakes, the bubbling rills,
The lulling water-falls;

The flow'rs which blended odours fhed,
The robes of mantling ivy fpread
Around the mould'ring walls,

IX.

Sweet fcenes! by Nature's pencil plann'd,
Retouch'd by Tafte's judicious hand,
Without the glare of Art;

Tho' rafhly I've abjur'd the Mufe,
Can fhe, when fuch the theme, refufe
*Her influence to impart ?

X.

Defponding thus did you lament,
But could you hope I would relent

And

And favour your approaches?
Nay, ceafe, unjustly (I replied).
To tax me with contempt and pride,
And load me with reproaches.

Whene'er I bow'd before your shrine,
You know that ev'ry pray'r of mine
In empty air was loft:

I never fought poetic fame,
Truth eyer was my leading aim,
Sincerity my boast.

XII.

But could I hope to gain from you
Those pow'rs, which mark the chofen few,
On whom you deigu to smile;

Could I fuppofe you would infpire
My bofom with-a-Churchill's fire,
And elevate my ftile?

XIII.

I'd fervently your aid implore;
I'd fcribble doggrel rhimes no more ;
But emulous of fame,

Would grateful join a nation's praise,
And decorate th' immortal-lays

With Camden's honour'd name.

ON

Which charms each ravish'd fenfe
The ruin'd Abbey's rooflefs iles,
And all the venerable fpoils

Of funk magnificence

VIII.

The verdant lawns, the wood-crown'd hills,
The limpid lakes, the bubbling rills,
The lulling water-falls;

The flow'rs which blended odours fhed,
The robes of mantling ivy spread
Around the mould'ring walls.

IX.

Sweet fcenes! by Nature's pencil plann'd,
Retouch'd by Tafte's judicious hand,
Without the glare of Art;

Tho' rafhly I've abjur'd the Muse,
Can fhe, when fuch the theme, refufe
Her influence to impart

X.

Defponding thus did you lament,
But could you hope I would relent

And

And favour your approaches?
Nay, ceafe, unjustly (I replied).
To tax me with contempt and pride,
And load me with reproaches.

XI.

Whene'er I bow'd before your shrine,
You know that ev'ry pray'r of mine
In empty air was lost:

I never fought poetic fame,
Truth eyer was my leading aim,
Sincerity my boast.

XII.

But could I hope to gain from you
Those pow'rs, which mark the chofen few,
On whom yon deigu to fmile;

:.

Could I fuppofe you would infpire
My bofom with a-Churchill's fire,
And elevate my ftile?

XIII.

I'd fervently your aid implore;
I'd fcribble doggrel rhimes no more;
But emulous of fame,

Would grateful join a nation's praise,
And decorate th' immortal-lays

With Camden's honour'd name.

ON

ON the 10th of January, 1777, the Comedy of the Provok'd Husband was acted, at a New Theatre, near Henley upon Thames, by the following per

WAS SPOKEN BY LORD VILLIERS.

MOST raw recruits, in times of Peace appear
To brave all dangers, and to mock at fear;
But when call'd forth to tread th' embattl'd plain,
They fairly wish themselves at home again.