ODE to MEMORY. 1748.

Memory! celestial maid !

Who glean'ft the flow'rets cropt by time; And, fuffering not a leaf to fade,

Preferv'st the bloffoms of our prime ; Bring, bring those moments to my mind When life was new, and LESBIA kind.

And bring that garland to my fight,

With which my favour'd crook she bound;
And bring that wreath of roses bright
Which then my feftive temples crown'd.

And to my raptur'd ear convey

The gentle things fhe deign'd to fay.

And sketch with care the mufe's bow'r,

Where Isis rolls her filver tide;

Nor yet

omit one reed or flow'r

That fhines on CHERWELL'S verdant fide; If fo thou may'st thofe hours prolong, When polifh'd LYCON join'd my song.

The fong it 'vails not to recite

But fure, to foothe our youthful dreams, Those banks and ftreams appear'd more bright Than other banks, than other streams:

Or by thy foftening pencil fhewn,
Affume they beauties not their own?

And paint that fweetly vacant scene,
When, all beneath the poplar bough,
My spirits light, my soul serene,

I breath'd in verfe one cordial vow;
That nothing should my foul inspire,
But friendship warm, and love entire.

Dull to the fenfe of new delight,

On thee the drooping muse attends; As fome fond lover, robb'd of fight, On thy expreffive pow'r depends; Nor would exchange thy glowing lines, To live the lord of all that fhines.

But let me chafe thofe vows away
Which at ambition's fhrine I made;
Nor ever let thy fkill display

Those anxious moments, ill repaid:
Oh! from my breast that feason rase,
And bring my childhood in its place.

Bring me the bells, the rattle bring,
And bring the hobby I bestrode;
When pleas'd, in many a fportive ring,
Around the room I jovial rode :

Ev'n let me bid my lyre adieu,
And bring the whiftle that I blew.

Then

Then will I mufe, and penfive fay,
Why did not these enjoyments laft?
How fweetly wafted I the day,

While innocence allow'd to wafte?
Ambition's toils alike are vain,
But ah! for pleafure yield us pain.

The Princess ELIZABETH:

A Ballad alluding to a ftory recorded of her, when she was prifoner at WOODSTOCK, 1554.

WILL you hear how once repining

Great ELIZA captive lay?

Each ambitious thought refigning,
Foe to riches, pomp, and sway?

While the nymphs and fwains delighted
Tript around in all their pride;
Envying joys by others flighted,
Thus the royal maiden cry'd.

"Bred on plains, or born in vallies,
Who would bid thofe fcenes adieu ?

Stranger to the arts of malice,

Who would ever courts purfue?

Malice never taught to treasure,
Cenfure never taught to bear:
Love is all the fhepherd's pleasure;
Love is all the damfel's care.

How can they of humble ftation
Vainly blame the pow'rs above?

Or accufe the difpenfation

Which allows them all to love?

Love

Love like air is widely given;

Pow'r nor chance can these restrain;

Trueft, nobleft gifts of heaven!
Only pureft on the plain!

Peers can no fuch charms difcover,
All in ftars and garters dreft,
As, on Sundays, does the lover
With his nofegay on his breast.

Pinks and rofes in profufion,

Said to fade when CHLOE's near; Fops may use the fame allufion; But the fhepherd is fincere,

Hark to yonder milk-maid finging
Chearly o'er the brimming pail;
Cowflips all around her springing
Sweetly paint the golden vale.

Never yet did courtly maiden
Move fo fprightly, look fo fair ;-
Never breast with jewels laden
Pour a fong fo void of care.

Would indulgent heav'n had granted
Me fome rural damfel's part!

All the empire I had wanted

Then had been my fhepherd's heart.

Then,