But fee! a fudden fore disease

Our fovereign's mental functions feize;
Whofe dire effects at once oppress

The fource of publick happiness.

Then fadness mark'd each face with grief, Nor med'cine's felf affords relief; Till heaven, in pity to our land, Propitious sent a lenient* hand; Its aid with ardent prayers implor'd, To health th' afflicted king restor❜d.

Now rapture fills th' exulting ifle,
Again all nature seems to smile:
All parties join'd, one voice employ,
To testify the publick joy.

Our monarch heal'd is lov'd the moreWe felt but half his worth before. His danger only serves to prove

Heaven's bounty, and his people's love.

* Dr. Willis.

WRITTEN IN

THE PAVILION,

In the LAUREL-GROVE,

At BURTON PYNSENT,

JULY 1786.

IMPROMPTU.

THE

HE British flag, triumphantly display'd, Throughout the world great Chatham's fame convey'd: Our finking credit, and our funds restor❜d,

An equal triumph to young Pitt afford.
The fire, the victor's laurel justly won:
Let then an *oaken crown reward the son.

* Or civick crown formed of oak leaves, "ob cives fervatos."

A

WINTER-DAY's JOURNEY;

OR,

THE STAGE OF LIFE!

WRITTEN AT AN INN, 1787.

AT early dawn, fresh rising with the sun,

With spirits gay, my journey I begun :

Thro' rough and smooth, 'midst sunshine, rain or snow, O'er hill and dale, full merrily I go.

At noon I halt, refresh my weary steed;
Recruit my strength; then cheerfully proceed.
But foon I feel the tedious length of way,
My fpirits waning with the clofing day.
Now night fucceeds; fatigu'd and listless grown,
I ftill jog on, all cheerless and alone:
I wish for reft; though yet no reft can find,
For many a tedious mile is ftill behind.
But ah! at length I fpy the friendly light
Of a warm inn difpel the gloom of night:

Pleas'd I difmount, become a welcome gueft,
Secure a well-warm'd bed-and fink to rest.

Yet, while my languid frame its strength renews,
My active fancy ftill her flight pursues;
The day's adventures traces o'er again,
Enjoys the pleasure, and forgets the pain.

In youth's fair feason, thus alert and gay,
Our stage begins, and funshine all the way:
Hope plans a life of never-ceafing joy;
No share of blifs our appetite can cloy:
To manhood grown, we yet behold awhile
The flattering world, with varying lustre, smile:
To-day, though disappointment cloud the scene,
To-morrow yields a profpect more ferene;
Pleasure and pain alternately prevail,

Yet hope in pleasure's favour turns the scale:
But foon, alas! the fond delufion's o'er,
Dull cares fucceed, and pleasure is no more.
The evil days approach, and naught remains,
But gloomy cares, infirmities and pains;

No further profpect now the wretch can have
Of joy, of eafe, but in the friendly grave;
There let me flee, bid all my troubles cease,
There reft my weary limbs-and fleep in peace.
While, wing'd with hope my frailties are forgiven,
The foul, redeem'd from death, fhall mount to heaven.

A

SUMMER-DAY's PLEASURE,

AT

CY, NEAR BATH.

DEEP in a vale, 'midft pendant woods,
And verdant meads, and winding floods;
Sequefter'd from that busy scene

Of noise and show-which nothing mean;
There ftands a sweet Palladian pile,
A manfion in the chastest style;
Such as of old, full many a dome
Adorn'd the environs of Rome.

This, as his journey he pursues, The traveller at a distance* views; And, though impatient to proceed, Charm'd with the landscape, checks his fteed;

L

From the Wells road.