ODE to MEMORY. 1748.

Memory! celeftial maid!

Who glean'ft the flow'rets cropt by time; And, fuffering not a leaf to fade,

Preferv'ft the bloffoms of our prime ; Bring, bring those moments to my mind When life was new, and LESBIA kind.

And bring that garland to my fight,

With which my favour'd crook fhe bound; And bring that wreath of rofes bright

Which then my

festive temples crown'd.

And to my raptur'd ear convey

The gentle things fhe deign'd to fsay.

And sketch with care the mufe's bow'r,

Where Isis rolls her filver tide

Nor yet omit one reed or flow'r

That shines on CHERWELL'S verdant fide;

If fo thou may'ft thofe hours prolong,
When polish'd LYCON join'd my fong.

The fong it 'vails not to recite

But fure, to foothe our youthful dreams, Those banks and streams appear'd more bright

Than other banks, than other streams:

Or by thy foftening pencil fhewn,
Affume they beauties not their own?

And paint that fweetly vacant scene,
When, all beneath the poplar bough,
My fpirits light, my foul ferene,

I breath'd in verfe one cordial vow;
That nothing fhould my foul infpire,
But friendship warm, and love entire.

Dull to the sense of new delight,

On thee the drooping muse attends ; As fome fond lover, robb'd of fight, On thy expreffive pow'r depends; Nor would exchange thy glowing lines, To live the lord of all that shines.

But let me chase those vows away
Which at ambition's fhrine I made;
Nor ever let thy skill display

Thofe anxious moments, ill repaid:
Oh! from my breaft that season rase,
And bring my childhood in its place.

Bring me the bells, the rattle bring,
And bring the hobby I bestrode ;
When pleas'd, in many a fportive ring,
Around the room I jovial rode:

Ev'n let me bid my lyre adieu,
And bring the whistle that I blew.

Then

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Then will I muse, and penfive fay,
Why did not these enjoyments laft?
How sweetly wafsted I the day,

While innocence allow'd to waste ?
Ambition's toils alike are vain,
But ah! for pleasure yield us pain.

The Princess ELIZABETH:

A Ballad alluding to a story recorded of her, when she was prifoner at WOODSTOCK, 1554.

ILL you hear how once repining

WIL

Great ELIZA captive lay?.

Each ambitious thought refigning,

Foe to riches, pomp, and sway?

While the nymphs and fwains delighted
Tript around in all their pride;
Envying joys by others flighted,
Thus the royal maiden cry'd.

Bred on plains, or born in vallies,
Who would bid those scenes adieu ?
Stranger to the arts of malice,

Who would ever courts purfue?

Malice never taught to treasure,
Cenfure never taught to bear:
Love is all the fhepherd's pleasure;
Love is all the damfel's care.

How can they of humble ftation
Vainly blame the pow'rs above?

Or accuse the dispensation

Which allows them all to love?

Love

Love like air is widely given;

Pow'r nor chance can these restrain ;
Trueft, nobleft gifts of heaven!
Only pureft on the plain!

Peers can no fuch charms discover,
All in ftars and garters drest,
As, on Sundays, does the lover
With his nofegay on his breast,

Pinks and roses in profufion,

Said to fade when CHLOE's near; Fops may use the fame allufion; But the fhepherd is fincere.

Hark to yonder milk-maid finging
Chearly o'er the brimming pail,
Cowflips all around her springing
Sweetly paint the golden valę.

Never

yet did courtly maiden Move fo fprightly, look fo fair; Never breaft with jewels laden Pour a fong fo void of care.

Would indulgent heav'n had granted
Me fome rural damfel's part!

All the empire I had wanted

Then had been my fhepherd's heart.

Then,