By which was I ever forgot?

It was both my physician and cure,
That still found the way to my cot,
Altho' I was wretched and poor:
'Twas balm to my canker-tooth'd care;
The wound of affliction it heal'd:
In distress it was Pity's soft tear,
And naked cold Poverty's shield.

Attend, ye kind youth of the plain!
Who oft with my sorrows condol'd;
You cannot be deaf to the strain,
Since Damon is master of gold.

I have chose a sweet sylvan retreat,
Bedeck'd with the beauties of spring.
Around my flocks nibble and bleat,
While the musical choristers sing.

I force not the waters to stand

In an artful canal at my door, But a river, at Nature's command, Meanders both limpid and pure.

She's the goddess that darkens my bow'rs
With tendrils of ivy and vine;

She tutors my shrubs and my flow'rs,
Her taste is the standard of mine.

What a pleasing diversified groupe

Of trees has she spread o'er my ground! She has taught the grave larix to droop, And the birch to deal odours around.

For whom has she perfum'd my groves?
For whom has shé cluster'd my vine?

If friendship despise my alcoves,
They'll ne'er be recesses of mine.

He who tastes his grape juices by stealth,
Without chosen companions to share,
Is the basest of slaves to his wealth,
And the pitiful minion of Care.
O come, and with Damon retire

Amidst the green umbrage embower'd;
Your mirth and your songs to inspire,
Shall the juice of his vintage be pour'd?
O come, ye dear friends of his youth!
Of all his good fortune partake;
Nor think 'tis departing from truth,
To say 'twas preserv'd for your sake.

RETIREMENT.

COME, Inspiration, from thy vernal bow'r,
To thy celestial voice attune the lyre;
Smooth gliding strains in sweet profusion pour,
And aid my numbers with scraphic fire..

Under a lonely spreading oak I lay,

My head upon the daisied green reclin❜d,
The ev'ning sun beam'd forth his parting ray,
The foliage bended to the hollow wind.
There gentle Sleep my acting pow'rs supprest,
The city's distant hum was heard no more;
Yet Fancy suffer'd not the mind to rest,
Ever obedient to her wakeful pow'r.

She led me near a crystal fountain's noise,
Where undulating waters sportive play;
Where a young comely swain, with pleasing voice,
In tender accents sung his sylvan lay.

"Adieu, ye baneful pleasures of the town!
"Farewell, ye giddy and unthinking throng!
"Without regret your foibles I disown;
"Themes more exalted claim the Muse's song-
"Your stony hearts no social feelings share;
"Your souls of distant sorrows ne'er partake;
"Ne'er do you listen to the needy pray'r,
"Nor drop a tear for tender pity's sake.

"Welcome, ye fields, ye fountains, and ye groves!
"Ye flow'ry meadows, and extensive plains!

"Where soaring warblers pour their plaintive loves, Each landscape cheering with their vocal strains.

"Here rural Beauty rears her pleasing shrine; "She on the margin of each streamlet glows; "Where, with the blooming hawthorn roses twine, "And the fair lily of the valley grows.

"Here Chastity may wander unassail'd

"Thro' fields where gay seducers cease to rove; "Where open Vice o'er Virtue near prevail'd; Where all is innocence, and all is love.

"Peace with hér olive wand triumphant reigns, "Guarding secure the peasant's humble bed; "Envy is banish'd from the happy plains, "And Defamation's busy tongue is laid. "Health and Contentment usher in the morn, "With jocund smiles they cheer the rural swain, "For which the Peer to pompous titles born, "Forsaken sighs, but all his sighs are vain. "For the calm comforts of an easy mind,. "In yonder lonely cot delight to dwell, "And leave the statesmen for the labʼring hind, "The regal palace for the lowly cell.

"Ye, who to Wisdom would devote your hours, "And far from riot, får from discord stray! "Look back disdainful on the city's tow'rs, "Where Pride, where Folly point the slipp'ry way. "Pure flows the limpid stream in crystal tides, "Thro' rocks, thro' dens, and ever verdant vales, "Till to the town's unhallow'd wall it glides, "Where all its purity and lustre fails."

ODE TO HOPE.

HOPE! lively cheerer of the mind,
In lieu of real bliss design'd,
Come from thy ever verdant bower
To chace the dull and lingʼring hour;
O! bring, attending on thy reign,
All thy ideal fairy train,

To animate the lifeless clay,

And bear my sorrows hence away.

Hence gloomy-featur'd black Despair,
With all thy frantic furies fly,
Nor rend my breast with gnawing Care,
For Hope in lively garb is nigh;

Let pining Discontentment mourn,
Let dull-ey'd Melancholy grieve,
Since pleasing Hope must reign by turn,
And ev'ry bitter thought relieve.

O smiling Hope in adverse hour,
I feel thy influencing power;

Tho' frowning Fortune fix my lot,
In some defenceless lonely cot,
Where Poverty, with empty hands,
In pallid meagre aspect stands;
Thou canst enrobe me, 'midst the great,
With all the crimson pomp of state,
Where Luxury invites his guests
To pall them with his lavish feasts:
What cave so dark, what gloom so drear,
So black with horror, dead with fear!
But thou canst dart thy streaming ray,
And change close night to open day.

Health is attendant in thy radiant train,

Round her the whisp'ring zephyrs gently play, Behold her gladly tripping o'er the plain, Bedeck'd with rural sweets and garlands gay,

When vital spirits are depress'd,

And heavy languor clogs the breast,
Comforting Hope! 'tis thine to cure,
Devoid of Esculapian power;

For oft thy friendly aid avails,

When all the strength of physic fails.

Nay, even tho' death should aim his dart,
I know he lifts his arm in vain,
Since thou this lesson canst impart,
Mankind but die to live again.

Depriv'd of thee must banners fall;

But where a living Hope is found,

The legions shout at danger's call,
And vict❜ries are triumphant crown'd.