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She bore of steel a polish'd shield,
Thy sorrows cease, complaining man,
TO THE NIGHTINGALE. O thou, that to the moonlight vale Warblest oft thy plaintive tale, What time the village murmurs cease, And the still eve is hush'd to peace, When now no busy sound is heard, Contemplation's favourite bird !
Chantress of night, whose amorous song
A short repose of cares to find,
ON THE SPRING.
TO A LADY.
Fresh beauties sheds on each enliven'd scene, With showers and sunshine cheers the smiling globe,
And mantles hill and vale in glowing green.
All nature feels her vital heat around,
The pregnant glebe now bursts with foodful grain; With kindly warmth she opes the frozen ground,
And with new life informs the teeming plain.
She calls the fishes from their oozy beds,
And animates the deep with genial love; She bids the herds bound sportive o'er the mead,
And with glad songs awakes the joyous grove.
No more the glaring tiger roams for prey,
All-powerful Love subdues his savage soul, To find his spotted mate he darts away, While gentler thoughts the thirst of blood con
But ah! while all is warmth and soft desire,
While all around Spring's cheerful infuence own, You feel not, Amoret, her quickening fire,
To Spring's kind influence a foe alone.
TO A LADY
WHO HATES THE COUNTRY.
Now Summer, daughter of the Sun, O'er the gay fields comes dancing on,
And earth o'erflows with joys; Too long in routs and drawing-rooms, The tasteless hours my fair consumes,
Midst folly, flattery, noise.
Come bear mild zephyr bid the rose
Come hear the falling rill;
Beside yon sloping hill.
By health awoke at early morn,
And help unpen the fold;
An holy Druid old.
Come wildly rove through desert dales, To listen how lone nightingales
In liquid lays complain ; Adieu the tender thrilling note, That pants in Monticelli's throat,
And Handel's stronger strain.
' Insipid pleasures these! (you cry)
To see rude peasants toil?
To my sagacious Hoyle 2 ?"
O falsely fond of what seems great,
And all life's tinsel glare!
Your length of sable hair.
Şoon as you reach the rural shade,
Your days and nights attend;
Your true ally and friend.
Fon For Isis,
She 1 Chose
Arcadia; a romance by Sir Philip Sidney.