The Honourable Mrs. ELIZABETH PERRY.
By the late Mr. F. COVENTRY.
Who faw'ft the birth of each immortal oak,
Here facred from the ftroke
And I thyal tenants of yon turrets bold,
Infpir'ft to arts or arms;
Where a Sidney his Arcadian landscape drew,
Genuine from thy Doric view;
And patriot b Algernon unfhaken rofe
Above infulting foes;
And Sacchariffa nurs'd her angel charms:
a Sir Philip Sidney. b Algernon Sidney.
O fuffer me with fober tread
To enter on thy holy shade;
Bid fmoothly-gliding Medway stand,
And wave his fedgy treffe's bland,
A ftranger let him kindly greet,
And pour his urn beneath my feet.
And see where Perry opes his door
To land me on the focial floor;
Nor does the heiress of these shades deny
To bend her bright majestic eye,
Where Beauty fhines, and Friendship warm,
And Honour in a female form.
With them in aged groves to walk,
And lofe my thoughts in artlefs talk,
Í fhun the voice of Party loud,
I fhun loofe Pleafure's idle crowd,
And monkish academic cell,
Where Science only feigns to dwell,
And court, where speckled Vanity
Apes her tricks in tawdry dye,
And shifts each hour her tinfel hue,
Still furbelow'd in follies new.
Here Nature no distortion wears,
Old Truth retains his filyer hairs,
And Chastity her matron step,
And purple Health her rofy lip.
Ah! on the virgin's gentle brow
How Innocence delights to glow!
Unlike the town-dame's haughty air,
The scornful eye and harlot's ftare;
But bending mild the bashful front
As modeft Fear is ever wont:
Shepherdeffes fuch of old
Doric bards enamour'd told,
While the pleas'd Arcadian vale
Echo'd the enchanting tale.
But chief of Virtue's lovely train,
A penfive exile on the plain,
No longer active now to wield
Th' avenging fword, protecting shield,
Here thoughtful-walking Liberty
Remembers Britons once were free.
With her would Nobles old converse,
And learn her dictates to rehearse,
yet they grew refin'd to hate
The hofpitable rural feat,
The spacious hall with tenants stor❜d,
Where Mirth and Plenty crown'd the board;
Ere yet their Lares they forfook,
And loft the genuine British look,
The conscious brow of inward merit,
The rough, unbending, martial spirit,
To clink the chain of Thraldom gay,
And court-idolatry to pay;
To live in city fmoaks obfcure,
Where morn ne'er wakes her breezes pure,
Where darkest midnight reigns at noon,
And fogs eternal blot the fun.
But come, the minutes flit away,
And eager Fancy longs to stray:
Come, friendly Genius! lead me round
Thy fylvan haunts and magic ground;
Point every spot of hill or dale,
And tell me, as we tread the vale,
"Here mighty Dudly once wou'd rove,
“To plan his triumphs in the grove :
"There loofer Waller, ever gay,
"With Sacchariss in dalliance lay;
“And Philip, fide-long yonder spring,
"His lavish carols wont to fing."
Hark! I hear the echoes call,
Hark! the rushing waters fall;
Lead me to the green retreats,
Guide me to the Mufes' feats,
Where ancient bards retirement chofe,
Or ancient lovers wept their woes.
What Genius points to yonder oak?
What rapture does my foul provoke?
c An oak in Penshurst park, planted the day Sir Philip Sidney was born, of which Ben Johnson speaks in the following
That taller tree, which of a nut was fet,
At his great birth, where all the Muses met.
There let me hang a garland high,
There let my Mufe her accents try;
Be there my earliest homage paid,
Be there my latest vigils made:
For thou waft planted in the earth
The day that fhone on Sidney's birth,
That happy time, that glorious day
The Mufes came in concert gay;
With harps in tune, and ready fong,
The jolly Chorus tript along;
In honour of th' aufpicious morn,
To hail an infant genius born :
Next came the Fauns in order meet,
The Satyrs next with cloven feet,
The Dryads fwift that roam the woods,
The Naiads green that fwim the floods;
Sylvanus left his filent cave,
Medway came dropping from the wave;
Vertumnus led his blufhing spouse,
And Ceres fhook her wheaten brows,
And Mars with milder look was there,
And laughing Venus grac'd the rear.
They join'd their hands in feftive dance,
And bade the smiling babe advance;
Each gave a gift; Sylvanus laft
Ordain'd, when all the pomp was past,
Memorial meet, a tree to grow,
Which might to future ages fhew,
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