To Miss *****

On her giving the Author a Gold and Silk Net-work

Purse of her own weaving *. THO

"HOUGH gold and silk their charms unite

To make thy curious web delight,
In vain the varied work would shine,
If wrought by any hand but thine ;
Thy hand that knows the subtler art,
To weave those nets that catch the heart.

Spread out by me, the roving coin
Thy nets may catch, but not confine;
Nor can I hope thy filken chain
The glittering vagrants shall restrain.
Why, Stella, was it then decreed
The heart once caught should ne'er be freed?

To Miss *****

On her playing upon the Harpfichord in a Room hang

with Flower-pieces of her own Painting. WHI

HEN Stella strikes the tuneful string

In scenes of imitated Spring,
Where beauty lavishes her powers
On beds of never-fading flowers,
And pleasure propagates around
Each charm of modulated found;

* Printed among Mrs. Wlliams's Miscellanies,


Ah! think not in the dangerous hour,
The nymph fictitious as the flower,
But shun, rafh youth, the gay alcove,
Nor tempt the snares of wily love.

When charms thus press on every sense,
What thought of flight, or of defence ?
Deceitful hope, and vain desire,
For ever Autter o'er her lyre,
Delighting as the youth draws nigh,
To point the glances of her eye,
And forming with unerring art
New chains to hold the captive heart.

But on those regions of delight Might truth intrude with daring flight, Could Stella, sprightly, fair, and young, One moment hear the moral song, Instruction with her flowers might spring, And wisdom warble from her string.

Mark when from thousand mingled dyes Thou seeft one pleasing form arise, How active light, and thoughtful shade, In greater scenes each other aid. Mark when the different notes agree In friendly contrariety, How pailions well accorded ftrife, Gives all the harmony of life; Thy pictures shall thy conduct frame, Consistent still, though not the same; Thy musick teach the nobler art, To tune the regulated heart.

[blocks in formation]

Sheds the grateful gifts fhe brings ;
Brilliant drops bedeck the mead,
Cooling breezes shake the reed;
Shake the reed, and curl the stream
Silver'd o'er with Cynthia's beam;
Near the chequer'd, lonely grove,
Hears, and keeps thy secrets, love.
Stella, thither let us stray !
Lightly o'er the dewy way.
Phoebus drives his burning car,
Hence, my lovely Stella, far;
In his stead, the queen of night
Round us pours a lambent light;
Light that seems but just to show
Breasts that beat, and cheeks that glow;
Let us now, in whisper'd joy,
Evening's filent hours employ,
Silence best, and conscious fhades,
Please the hearts that love invades,
Other pleasures give them pain,
Lovers all but love disdain,


[blocks in formation]


HETHER Stella's eyes are found,

Fix'd on earth, or glancing round,
If her face with pleasure glow,
If the sigh at others woe,
If her easy air express
Conscious worth, or soft distress,
Stella's eyes, and air, and face,
Charm with undiminish'd grace.

If on her we see display'd
Pendant gems, and rich brocade,
If her chintz with less expence
Flows in eafy negligence ;
Still the lights the conscious flame,
Still her charms appear the same ;
If she strikes the vocal strings,
If she's filent, speaks, or sings,
If she fit, or if she move,
Still we love, and still approve.

Vain the casual, transient glance,
Which alone can please by chance,
Beauty, which depends on art,
Changing with the changing art,
Which demands the toilet's aid,
Pendant gems and rich brocade.

I those

I those charms alone can prize,
Which from constant nature rife,
Which nor circumstance, nor dress,
E'er can make, or more, or less.

[blocks in formation]


o more thus brooding o'er yon heap,

With Avarice painful vigils keep;
Still unenjoy'd the present store,
Still endless fighs are breath'd for more.
O! quit the shadow, catch the prize,
Which not all India's treasure buys !
To purchase heaven has gold the power ?
Can gold remove the mortal hour?
In life can love be bought with gold ?
Are friendship’s pleasures to be fold ?
No-all that's worth a wilh-a thought,
Fair virtue gives unbrib’d, unbought.
Cease then on trash thy hopes to bind,
Let nobler views engage thy mind.

With science tread the wondrous way,
Or learn the Muses' moral lay ;
In social hours indulge thy soul,
Where mirth and temperance mix the bowl ;
To virtuous love resign thy breaft,
And be, by blessing beauty-blest.



« ElőzőTovább »