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In thee the fource of ev'ry blifs refign.

And now farewel, thou darling youth! the gem Of English merit! peace, content, and joy, And tender hopes, and young defires, farewel! Attend, ye fmiling train, this gallant mind Back to his native fhores; there fweetly smooth His ev'ning pillow; dance around his groves; And, where he treads, with vi'lets paint his way. But leave ELVIRA! leave her, now no more Your frail companion! in the facred cells Of fome lone cloifter let me fhroud my fhame: There, to the matin bell, obfequious, pour My conftant orifons. The wanton loves, And gay defires shall spy the glim'ring tow'rs, And wing their flight aloof: but reft confirm'd, That never shall ELVIRA's tongue conclude Her shortest pray'r, ere HENRY's dear fuccefs The warmest accent of her zeal employ."

Thus spoke the weeping fair, whofe artless mind Impartial fcorn'd to model her efteem By native customs; drefs, and face, and air, And manners, lefs; nor yet refolv'd in vain. He, bound by prior loves, the folemn vow Giv'n and receiv'd, to foft compaffion gave A tender tear; then with that kind adieu Efteem could warrant, weary'd heav'n with pray'rs To fhield that tender breast he left forlorn.

He ceas'd, an to the cloister's pensive scene ELVIRA fhap'd her folitary way,

The

The SCHOOL-MISTRESS.

In Imitation of SPENSER.

Audita voces, vagitus & ingens,
Infantumque anime flentes in limine primo.

ADVERTISEMENT.

VIRG.

What particulars in Spenfer were imagined most proper for the author's imitation on this occafion, are his language, his fimplicity, his manner of description, and a peculiar tenderness of fentiment remarkable throughout his works.

A

H me! full forely is my heart forlorn,

To think how modeft worth neglected lies; While partial fame doth with her blasts adorn Such deeds alone, as pride and pomp disguise; Deeds of ill fort, and mischievous emprize! Lend me thy clarion, goddess! let me try To found the praise of merit, ere it dies; Such as I oft have chaunced to espy, Loft in the dreary fhades of dull obfcurity.

In

In ev'ry village mark'd with little spire,
Embow'r'd in trees, and hardly known to fame,
There dwells, in lowly shed, and mean attire,
A matron old, whom we school-mistress name;
Who boasts unruly brats with birch to tame;
They grieven fore, in piteous durance pent,
Aw'd by the pow'r of this relentless dame;
And oft-times, on vagaries idly bent,

For unkempt hair, or tafk unconn'd, are forely fhent.

And all in fight doth rife a birchen tree,
Which learning near her little dome did stowe ;
Whilom a twig of fmall regard to fee,

Tho' now fo wide its waving branches flow;
And work the fimple vaffals mickle woe;
For not a wind might curl the leaves that blew,
But their limbs fhudder'd, and their pulfe beat low;
And, as they look'd, they found their horror grew,
And shap'd it into rods, and tingled at the view.

So have I feen (who has not, may conceive,)
A lifeless phantom near a garden plac'd;
So doth it wanton birds of peace bereave,
Of fport, of fong, of pleasure, of repast;
They start, they ftare, they wheel, they look aghaft:
Sad fervitude! fuch comfortless annoy

May no bold Briton's riper age e'er taste !
Ne fuperftition clog his dance of joy,

Ne vifion empty, vain, his native bliss destroy.

Near

Near to this dome is found a patch fo green,
On which the tribe their gambols do difplay;
And at the door impris❜ning board is seen,
Left weakly wights of smaller fize should stray;
Eager, perdie, to bafk in funny day!

The noises intermix'd, which thence refound,
Do learning's little tenement betray :

Where fits the dame, disguis'd in look profound, And eyes her fairy throng, and turns her wheel around.

Her сар, far whiter than the driven fnow, Emblem right meet of decency does yield : Her apron dy'd in grain, as blue, I trowe, As is the hare-bell that adorns the field : And in her hand, for fcepter, fhe does wield Tway birchen sprays; with anxious fear entwin'd, With dark diftruft, and fad repentance fill'd; And stedfast hate, and sharp affliction join'd, And fury uncontroul'd, and chastisement unkind.

Few but have ken'd, in femblance meet pourtray'd,
The childish faces of old Eol's train;

LIBS, NOTUS, AUSTER: these in frowns array'd,
How then would fare or earth, or sky, or main,
Were the ftern god to give his flaves the rein?
And were not fhe rebellious breafts to quell,
And were not fhe her ftatutes to maintain,

The cott no more, I ween, were deem'd the cell, Where comely peace of mind, and decent order dwell.

A ruffet

A ruffet ftole was o'er her fhoulders thrown
A ruffet kirtle fenc'd the nipping air;
'Twas fimple ruffet, but it was her own;

'Twas her own country bred the flock fo fair ģ 'Twas her own labour did the fleece prepare; And, footh to fay, her pupils, rang'd around, Thro' pious awe, did term it paffing rare; For they in gaping wonderment abound, And think,no doubt,fhebeenthegreateftwighton ground

Albeit ne flatt'ry did corrupt her truth,
Ne pompous title did debauch her ear;
Goody, good-woman, goffip, n'aunt, forfooth,
Or dame, the fole additions she did hear;
Yet these she challeng'd, these she held right dear:
Ne would efteem him act as mought behove,
Who fhould not honour'd eld with thefe revere:
For never title

yet fo mean could prove,

But there was eke a mind which did that title love.

One ancient hen she took delight to feed, The plodding pattern of the bufy dame; Which, ever and anon, impell'd by need, Into her school, begirt with chickens, came; Such favour did her past deportment claim: And, if neglect had lavifh'd on the ground! Fragment of bread, fhe would collect the fame; For well she knew, and quaintly could expound, What fin it were to wafte the finalleft crumb fhe found,

Herbs

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