How jovial then the day!
What fince have all my labours found,
Thus climbing life, to gaze around,
That can thy lofs repay?
Wert thou, alas! but kind,
Methinks no frown that fortune wears,
Nor leffen'd hopes, nor growing cares,
Could fink my chearful mind.
Whate'er my stars include;
What other breasts convert to pain,
My tow'ring mind fhould foon difdain,
Should fcorn-Ingratitude!
Repair this mouldering cell,
And bleft with objects found at home,
And envying none their fairer dome,
How pleas'd my foul fhould dwell!
Temperance fhould guard the doors; From room to room should memory stray, And, ranging all in neat array,
Enjoy her pleafing stores
There let them reft unknown,
The types of many a pleasing scene;
But to preserve them bright or clean,
Is thine, fair queen! alone.
Fitting up her LIBRARY, 1738.
H! what is fcience, what is art,
Or what the pleasure these impart?
Ye trophies which the learn'd pursue
Through endless fruitless toils, adieu!
What can the tedious tomes bestow,
To foothe the miferies they show?
What, like the blifs for him decreed,
Who tends his flock, and tunes his reed!
Say, wretched fancy! thus refin'd
From all that glads the fimpleft hind,
How rare that object, which fupplies
A charm for too difcerning eyes!
The polish'd bard, of genius vain,
Endures a deeper fenfe of pain:
As each invading blaft devours.
The richest fruits, the fairest flow'rs.
Sages, with irkfome wafte of time,
The steep afcent of knowledge climb
Then, from the tow'ring heights they scale
Behold contentment range-the vale
Yet why, ASTERIA, tell us why
We scorn the crowd, when you are nigh
Why then does reason seem so fair,
Why learning then, deferve our care?
Who can unpleas'd your fhelves behold,
While you fo fair a proof unfold
What force the brightest genius draws
From polifh'd wisdom's written laws?
Where are our humbler tenets flown?
What strange perfection bids us own
That blifs with toilfome fcience dwells,
And happieft he, who moft excels?
VISIT to the fame in Winter, 1748.
N fair ASTERIA's blissful plains,
Where ever-blooming fancy reigns,
How pleas'd we pafs the winter's day;
And charm the dull-ey'd fpleen away!
No linnet, from the leaflefs bough,
Pours forth her note melodious now;
But all admire ASTERIA's tongue,
Nor wish the linnet's vernal fong.
No flow'rs emit their tranfient rays:
Yet fure ASTERIA's wit difplays
More various tints, more glowing lines,
And with perennial beauty fhines.
Tho' rifled groves and fetter'd ftreams
But ill befriend a poet's dreams :
ASTERIA'S prefence wakes the lyre;
And well fupplies poetic fire.
The fields have loft their lovely dye;
No chearful azure decks the fky;
Yet ftill we blefs the louring day:
ASTERIA fmiles-and all is gay.
Hence let the muse no more prefume
To blame the winter's dreary gloom;
Accuse his loitering hours no more;
But ah! their envious hafte deplore!
For foon, from wit and friendship's reign,
The focial hearth, the fprightly vein,
I go-to meet the coming year,
On favage plains, and deferts drear!
1 go-to feed on pleasures flown,
Nor find the fpring my lofs atone!
But 'mid the flowery fweets of May
With pride recal this winter's day.
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