1 O D E. O dear my Lucio is to me, our So well our minds and tempers blend; That seasons may for ever flee, And ne'er divide me from my friend; O LYCON, born when every mufe, To blefs her lov'd, her only child; Together we from early youth Have trod the flowery tracks of time, O'er learned fage, or bard fublime; Come then, refume thy charming lyre, Confume my fair and fruitless prime; O come! Shall daily foothe thy ftudious mind, The blue-ey'd nymphs of yonder floods Shall meet and court thee to be kind; Like me, the plover fondly tries To lure the sportsman from her nest, A PAS A PASTORAL ODE, To the Honourable Sir RICHARD LYTTELTON. THE HE morn difpens'd a dubious light, Each pleasing vale and hill; When DAMON left his humble bowers To guard his flocks, to fence his flowers, Tho' school'd from fortune's paths to fly, That he, in fylvan fhades, forlorn! No friend to fame's obftreperous noise, The pleasures he thro' choice declin❜d, Griev'd Where coots in rushy dingles hide, But fee, the radiant fun once more And more to gild his rural sphere, Amazement chill'd the fhepherd's frame, Should rove where fhepherds dwell. But true it is, the generous mind, Amid the defart plain. *The Duchess of BRIDGEWATER, married to Sir RICHARD LYTTELTON, Befeems Befeems it fuch, with honour crown'd, Nor equal meed receive: At moft fuch garlands from the field, Yet strive, ye fhepherds, ftrive to find, If haply thus yon lovely fair May round their temples deign to wear O how the peaceful halcyons play'd, ATHENIA'S placid mien ! How did the sprightlier linnets throng, LO, DARTMOUTH on those banks reclin❜d, The glories of his line; Methinks my cottage rears its head, The ruin❜d walls of yonder shed, As thro' enchantment, shine. But |