Ye fportive elves, as faithful I relate
Th' entrusted mandates of your fairy ftate,
Vifit thefe wilds again with nightly care,
So fhall my kine, of all the herd, repair,
In healthy plight, to fill the copious pail ;!
My fheep be penn'd, with fafety, in the dale;
My poultry fear no robber in the rooft;
My linen more than common whiteness boat;
Let order, peace, and housewif'ry be mine:
Shenstone! be taste, and fame, and fortune thine!

COTSWOULDIA.

To Mr. S. upon his defiring her to paint his character. Dec, 30, 1760.

TH

By Mifs Loggin.

HO' you flatter my genius, and praife what I write,
Sure this whimfical task was impos'd out of fpite.
Because this poor head, with much fcratching and thinking,
Made fome idle reflections on raking and drinking;

To clip my weak wings

with malicious intention

You prefent me a theme that defies all invention.

Your picture! Lord bless mé! Where can one begin?

To speak truth, were infipid; to lie, were a fin.

You might think me in love, fhould I paint your perfections;
Should I sketch out your faults, you might make-worse objections.
Should I blend in one piece of fuperlative merit,
Good-nature with wit, condefcenfion with spirit ;
Should, with modefty, ease and politenefs be join'd;
Unlimited freedom, with manners refin'd;
Courage, tenderness, honour, enthron'd in one heart;
With frankness, referve; and with honefty, art:
With thefe glaring good qualities plac'd in full view,
Do you think any foul would believe it was you?

Why then turn t'other fide, fays Ill-nature, and find him,
In fome few modifh faults, leave his fex-all behind him.
For levity, flattery, and fo forth, he's fam'd

Prythee, peace, fool; and let no fuch trifles be nam'd:
If his failings be fuch, time will certainly cure 'em,
And the ladies-till then will with pleasure endure 'em.

To a Lady.

IN difappointments not unskill'd,

My mind in fearch of pleasure roves ;

R 4

With

With hopes of happiness beguil'd,
Tow'rds ev'ry fond amusement moves.
But fond amufements-all are vain,
The wifh'd-for happiness to gain.

Free from ambition's reftlefs fire,
My humble foul could dwell at ease;
Nor can the thirst of gold inspire
A with injurious to my peace.
Honour and wealth in vain allure
A heart contented to be poor.
Not the whole world with all its charms,
Could my regardless mind entice;
Beauty alone my heart difarms,
Proof to the other baits of vice.
Yet here, a lovely Myra's name
Infpires me with the purest flame.

Pleasures in these foft colours drest,
Attract my unexperienc'd eyes;
Until within my youthful breaft
Warm expectations quickly rife,
And with delufive hopes controul
Each wish of my unwary foul.
Thus, while on earthly blifs, my mind
Is fix'd with fancied joy elate;
Soon all my hopes I fadly find
Dash'd by fome fudden turn of fate.
Thus all my hopes, I find are vain ;
I only rife to fall again

No more, fond youth, direct thy aim
At what thou ne'er muft truly know.
A love fo pure, heav'n only claims,
Unrival'd by the joys below.

There thou wilt find-what here thou'lt mifs,
A lafting portion and substantial bliss.

Wrote to an admirable Lady under misfortunes and undeferv'd confinement.

T

e;

O meet affliction with a scorn divine,
Befits, oh! P-1, a foul like thine
Calm to encounter calumny and pain,
While fix'd in conscious virtue you remain.
So much in fentiments your mind transcends,
That few have fentiments to be your friends.
Amidft that few-oh let the Muse be plac'd,
In fortune humble, but refin'd in taste.

I fee your worth, your merit I adore,

And court your smile-when fortune fmiles no more.'
Can there be anguish where such sweetness dwells,
Where Phoebus vifits our fequefter'd cells;

Where fenfe, and worth, and elegance can chuse,
To kill one moment with the fuff'ring Muse.
Let this to reptiles be the fcourge of vice,
While you enrich it, 'tis a paradife.
Permit this tribute, when the hand of fate
Shall waft my spirit to its wish'd-for ftate:
When perfecution with an iron rod,
Frees me from man, and gives me to my
Let this convince th' abject of human race,
I honour dignity, and scorn the base.
Not all the glitc'ring mammon of Peru
Could force these lays that Nature gives to you.
And when your bard, unbidden, I commence,
I raise one monument to prove my sense.

God,

An Ode to Solitude.

H! Solitude! Celestial maid !
Wrap me in thy fequefter'd fhade,
And all my foul employ !
From folly, ignorance, and ftrife,
From all the giddy whirls of life!
And loud unmeaning joy!
While in the statesman's glowing dream,
Fancy pourtrays the high-wrought scheme,
And plans a future fame;
What, is the phantom he purfues!
What the advantage that accrues !
Alas! an empty name!

To him, the grove no pleasure yields,
Nor moffy bank, nor verdant fields,
Nor daily-painted lawns;
In vain the ambrofial gale invites,
In vain all Nature sheds delights,
Her genuine charms he fcorns!
Pleafure allures the giddy throng,
The gay, the vain, the fair, and young,
All bend before her shrine!
She spreads around delufive fnares,
The borrow'd garb of blifs she wears,
And tempts in form divine!
Fashion with wild tyrannic fway,
Directs the business of the day,

And reigns without controul;
The beaus, and fparkling belles confess,
She annimates the modes of drefs,
And chains the willing foul!

Can thefe, the flaves of fashion's pow'r,
Enjoy the filent, tranquil hour,

And bloom with nature's glow ?

Or, to the votaries, of fenfe

Can Solitude her sweets difpense,

And happiness bestow?

How wretched that unfurnish'd mind,
Which to each vain purfuit inclin'd,
Is ever bent to roam!

Oh! be that restless state abhor'd,
Seek not for happiness abroad,
She's only found at home!

Ye

Ye fages, who with anxious care,
Rov'd thro' the fleeting tracks of air,
A vacuum to find;

Wifer had ye employ'd your skill,
With folid fenfe, and worth to fill,
The vacuum of the mind!
Let choice, not wrinkled spleen, engage
The mind, to quit the world's gay ftage,
Where folly's fcenes are play'd;

Sour difcontent, and pining care,
Attaint the fragrance of the air,
Difturb the filent shade.
Not wounded by misfortune's dart,
I seek to ease the rankling smart
Of thorny feft'ring woe;

But far remote from crowds and noise,
To reap fair virtue's placid joys;
In wifdom's foil they grow.

I ask not pageant pomp, nor wealth,
For bleft with competence and health,
"Twere folly to be great!
May I thro' life ferenely flide,
As yon clear ftreams, which filent glide,
Nor quit this lov'd retreat.
Beneath this leafy arch reclin'd,
I tafte more true content of mind,
-Than frolic mirth can give;
Here to the busy world unknown,
I feel each blifsful hour my own,
And learn the art to live!
While turning nature's volume o'er,
Fresh beauties rife, unseen before.
To ftrike the aftonifh'd foul!

Our mental harmony improves,
To mark each planet how it moves,
How all in order roll!

From Nature's fix'd, unerring laws,
I'm lifted to th' Eternal Cause,

Which moves this lifeless clod!
This won i'rous frame, this vast design,
Proclaims the workmanship divine,
The architect, a God!

Oh! facred blifs! thy paths to trace,
And happiest they of human race,

To whom this pow'r is given.
Each day, in fome delightful fhade,
By Contemplation's foft'ring aid,

To plume the foul for heaven!

Wrote