O hafte and bring him to my arm3 ;

Nor let us ever part:

My breast shall beat no more alarms,

When I fecure his heart.

Written to a near Neighbour in a tempestuous Night 1748.

Y

By the Same.

I.

OU bid my Muse not cease to fing,
You bid my ink not cease to flow;

Then say it ever shall be spring,

And boisterous winds shall never blow:
When you fuch miracles can prove,
I'll fing of friendship, or of love.

II.

But now, alone, by ftorms opprest,
Which harshly in my ears refound;
No chearful voice with witty jeft,

No jocund pipe to still the found;
Untrain'd befide in verfe-like art,

How shall my pen exprefs my heart?

III.

In vain I call th' harmonious Nine,

In vain implore Apollo's aid;
Obdurate, they refuse a line,

While spleen and care my reft invade,
Say, fhall we Morpheus next implore,

And try if dreams befriend us more?

With treach'rous wildfire of the brain,

Th' intoxicated poet's bane.

Written at a Ferme Ornee near Birmingham;

'T

Auguft 7th, 1749.

By the Same.

IS Nature here bids pleafing fcenes arife,

And wifely gives them Cynthio, to revise:
To veil each blemish; brighten every grace;
Yet still preserve the lovely Parent's face.

How well the bard obeys, each valley tells;
Thefe lucid ftreams, gay meads, and lonely cells;

Where

Where modeft art in filence lurks conceal'd:
While Nature fhines, fo gracefully reveal'd,
That She triumphant claims the total plan;
And, with fresh pride, adopts the work of man.

The GOLDFINCHES.

By Mr. JAG O.

An Elegy.

Ingenuas didiciffe fideliter artes

Emollit mores, nec finit effe feros.

T

O you, whofe groves protect the feather'd quires, Who lend their artless notes a willing ear, To you, whom pity moves, and taste inspires, The Doric ftrain belongs; O Shenstone, hear.

'Twas gentle spring, when all the tuneful race, By nature taught, in nuptial leagues combine : A goldfinch joy'd to meet the warm embrace,

And hearts and fortunes with her mate to join.

Thro' Nature's fpacious walks at large they rang'd,
No fettled haunts, no fix'd abode their aim;
As chance or fancy led, their path they chang'd,
Themselves in ev'ry vary'd fcene, the fame.

Till on a day to weighty cares refign'd,
With mutual choice, alternate, they agreed,
On rambling thoughts no more to turn their mind,
But fettle foberly, and raise a breed.

All in a garden, on a currant-bush,

With wond'rous art they built their waving feat:

In the next orchat liv'd a friendly thrush,
Nor distant far, a woodlark's soft retreat.

Here bleft with ease, and in each other bleft,

With early fongs they wak'd the sprightly groves, Till time matur'd their blifs, and crown'd their nest With infant-pledges of their faithful loves.

And now what tranfport glow'd in either's eye!
What equal fondness dealt th' allotted food!
What joy each other's likeness to defcry,
And future fonnets in the chirping brood!

But ah! what earthly happiness can last ?
How does the fairest purpose often fail?
A truant-school-boy's wantonness could blast
Their rifing hopes, and leave them both to wail.

The most ungentle of his tribe was he;
No gen'rous precept ever touch'd his heart:
With concords falfe, and hideous profody

He fcrawl'd his task, and blunder'd o'er his part.

On

On barb'rous plunder bent, with savage eye

He mark'd where wrapt in down the younglins lay, Then rushing feiz'd the wretched family,

And bore them in his impious hands away.

But how fhall I relate in numbers rude

*

The pangs for poor Chryfomitris decreed! When from a neighb'ring spray aghast she view'd The favage ruffian's inaufpicious deed!

So wrapt in grief some heart-struck matron stands, While horrid flames furround her children's room! On heav'n fhe calls, and wrings her trembling hands, Constrain'd to fee, but not prevent their doom.

O grief of griefs! with fhrieking voice she cry'd,' "What fight is this that 1 have liv'd fo fee? "O! that I had a maiden-goldfinch died,

"From love's false joys, and bitter forrows free?

"Was it for this, alas! with weary bill,

"Was it for this, I pois'd th' unwieldy ftraw? "For this I pick'd the mofs from yonder hill ? "Nor fhun'd the pond'rous chat along to draw?

"Was it for this, I cull'd the wool with care?

"And ftrove with all my skill our work to crown ?

"For this, with pain I bent the stubborn hair?
"And lin'd our cradle with the thiftle's down?

*

Chryfomitris, it seems, is the name for a goldfinc