Is't reafon? no; that my whole life will belye,
For who fo at variance as reafon and I?

heart,

Is't ambition that fills
up each chink of my
Nor allows any fofter fenfation a part?
Oh no! for in this all the world muft agree,
One folly was never fufficient for me.

Is my mind on diftrefs too intenfely employ'd,
Or by pleasure relax'd, by variety cloy'd?
For alike in this only, enjoyment and pain

Both flacken the fprings of thofe nerves which they ftrain,

That I've felt each reverse that from fortune can flow,
That I've tafted each blifs that the happiest know,
Has ftill been the whimsical fate of my life,
Where anguish and joy have been ever at ftrife.
But tho' vers'd in th' extremes both of pleasure and pain,
I am till but too ready to feel them again.

If then for this once in my life I am free,

And escape from a fnare might catch wiser than me; 'Tis that beauty alone but imperfectly charms

For tho' brightness may dazzle 'tis kindness that warms:
As on funs in the winter with pleasure we gaze,
But feel not the warmth though their fplendour we
praise,

So beauty our just admiration may claim,

But love, and love only the heart can inflame.

RHAPSODY on TASTE,

On feeing the Duchefs of Devonshire in full

Drefs.

By LORD C

OME, thou goddefs fair and free,
Whom the meek nymph, Simplicity,
To the fon of Maia bore,

And nurs'd upon th' Athenian shore,
Then to thy fire her charge refign'd,
Who to fuch elegance of mind
Added, whatever polish'd ease

Could give, and all the arts to please:
Whether on Reynolds (beauty's friend)
Thou biddeft every grace attend;
Or fmiling doft in fportive fong
Hail the great gueft of Kien-long *:
Hither, various goddefs, hafte,
Boundlefs, inimitable tafte,

Sir William Chambers.

And fave thofe charms from fashion's tawdry reign,
Which Nature gave to Dev'n, and gave in vain-
From her cumbrous forehead tear
The architecture of her hair,

But leave one fnow-white plume to fhew
It faintly mocks the neck below-
Snatch from her lip the immodeft guile
Of affectation's conftant smile,
And on her cheek replace the rose,
Which, pale and wan, no longer glows
With all that beauty, youth, and love,
Could copy from fome faint above-
Would the promise real bliss,

Bid her feem but what she is :
Or, if lovelier still she'd be,

From Granby learn to worship ahee.

Lincolns-Inn New Square.

ELE G Y.

Written in the Garden of a Friend.

By W. MAS ON, A. M.

WHILE o'er my head this laurel-woven bow'r

Its arch of glittering verdure wildly flings,

Can fancy flumber? can the tuneful pow'r,
That rules my lyre, neglect her wonted strings?

No; if the blightning Eaft deform'd the plain,
If this gay bank no balmy fweets exhal'd,
Still fhould the grove re-echo to my ftrain,

And friendship prompt the theme, where beauty fail'd.

For he, whofe careless art this foliage dreft,
Who bad thefe twining braids of woodbine bend,
He firft with truth and virtue taught my breaft
Where beft to chufe, and beft to fix a friend.

How well does mem'ry note the golden day,
What time reclin'd in Marg 'ret's ftudious glade,
My mimic reed first tun'd the * Dorian lay,

"Unfeen, unheard, beneath an hawthorn' fhade!"

'Twas there we met the mufes hail'd the hour; The fame defires, the fame ingenious arts Infpir'd us both; we own'd and blefs'd the pow'r That join'd at once our ftudies and our hearts.

O! fince those days, when fcience fpread the feaft,
When emulative youth its relifh lent,

Say has one genuine joy e'er warm'd my breast?
Enough: if joy was his, be mine content.

To thirft for praise his temperate youth forbore;
He fondly with'd not for a poet's name,
Much did he love the mufe, but-quiet more,
And, tho' he might command, he flighted fame.

Hither in manhood's prime he wifely fled
From all that folly, all that pride approves ;
To this foft scene a tender partner led;

This laurel fhade was witness to their loves.

"Bégone (he cry'd) ambition's air-drawn plan; "Hence with perplexing pomp's unwieldy wealth: "Let me not feem, but be the happy man,

"Poffeft of love, of competence, and health.”

Smiling he fpake, nor did the fates withstand;
In rural arts the peaceful moments flew :
Say, lovely lawn! that felt his forming hand,
How foon thy furface shone with verdure new :

* Mufœus, the firft Poem which the author publifhed, written while he was a scholar of St. College in Cambridge.