Which innocence, and truth imparts,
And melts the most obdurate hearts.

A thousand fhapes you wear with ease,
And still in every fhape you pleafe;
Now rapt in fome mysterious dream,
A lone philofopher you feem;
Now quick from hill to dale you fly,
And now you fweep the vaulted sky,
And nature triumphs in your eye:
Then strait again you court the fhade,
And pining hang the penfive head.
A fhepherd next you haunt the plain,
And warble forth your oaten ftrain.
A lover now with all the grace
Of that fweet paffion in your

face!

Then, foft-divided, you affume
The gentle-looking Hd's bloom,
As, with her PHILOMELA, fhe,
(Her PHILOMELA fond of thee)
Amid the long withdrawing vale,
Awakes the rival'd nightingale.

A thousand shapes you wear with ease,
And still in every shape you please.

}

'Thine

Thine is th' unbounded breath of morn,

Juft as the dew-bent rofe is born;
And while meridian fervors beat,
Thine is the woodland's dumb retreat;
But chief, when evening scenes decay,
And the faint landskip swims away,
Thine is the doubtful dear decline,
And that best hour of musing thine.
Defcending angels bless thy train,
The virtues of the fage, and fwain ;
Plain Innocence in white array'd,
And Contemplation rears the head:
Religion with her aweful brow,
And rapt URANIA waits on you.

Oh, let me pierce thy fecret cell!
And in thy deep receffes dwell:
For ever with thy raptures fir'd,
For ever from the world retir'd;
Nor by a mortal feen, fave he
A LYCIDAS, or LYCON be.

An

An O DE

Ο Ν

EOLUS's HAR P.*

By the Same.

I.

Æ

Therial race, inhabitants of air!

Who hymn your God amid the secret grove;

Ye unfeen beings to my harp repair,

And raise majestic strains, or melt in love.

II.

Those tender notes, how kindly they upbraid! With what soft woe they thrill the lover's heart! Sure from the hand of fome unhappy maid

Who dy'd of love, these sweet complainings part.

• Æolus's harp is a mufical inftrument, which plays with the wind, invented by Mr. Ofwald; its properties are fully described in the Castle of Indolence.

III. But

III.

But hark! that ftrain was of a graver tone,

On the deep strings his hand fome hermit throws Or he the facred Bard!* who fat alone,

In the drear waste, and wept his people's woes.

IV.

Such was the fong which Zion's children fung,
When by Euphrates' ftream they made their plaint:
And to fuch fadly folemn notes are strung

Angelic harps, to footh a dying faint.

V.

Methinks I hear the full celestial choir,

Thro' heaven's high dome their aweful anthem raise; Now chanting clear, and now they all conspire To fwell the lofty hymn, from praise to praise.

VI.

Let me, ye wand'ring fpirits of the wind,

Who as wild Fancy prompts you touch the string,

Smit with your theme, be in your chorus join'd,

For 'till you ceafe, my Mufe forgets to fing.

* Jeremiah.

On

On the Report of a WOODEN BRIDGE to be

BY

built at Westminster.

By the Same.

Y Rufus' hall, where Thames polluted flows,
Provok'd, the Genius of the river rose,

And thus exclaim'd,

"Have I, ye British swains,

"Have I, for ages, lav'd your fertile plains?
"Given herds, and flocks, and villages increase,
"And fed a richer than the Golden Fleece?

"Have I, ye merchants, with each fwelling tide,
"Pour'd Afric's treasure in, and India's pride?

"Lent you the fruit of every nation's toil?

66

Made every climate your's, and every foil?

"Yet pilfer'd from the poor, by gaming base, "Yet must a Wooden Bridge my waves difgrace? "Tell not to foreign ftreams the shameful tale, "And be it publish'd in no Gallic vale."

Hé faid;

and plunging to his crystal dome, White o'er his head the circling waters foam.

The