In thee the fource of ev'ry blifs refign.

way.

And now farewel, thou darling youth! the gen Of English merit! peace, content, and joy, And tender hopes, and young defires, farewel! Attend, ye fmiling train, this gallant mind Back to his native fhores; there sweetly smooth His ev'ning pillow; dance around his groves; And, where he treads, with vi'lets paint his But leave ELVIRA! leave her, now no more Your frail companion! in the facred cells Of fome lone cloister let me shroud my fhame: There, to the matin bell, obfequious, pour. My conftant orifons. The wanton loves, gay defires shall spy the glim'ring tow'rs, And wing their flight aloof: but rest confirm'd, That never shall ELVIRA's tongue conclude Her shortest pray'r, ere HENRY's dear success The warmest accent of her zeal employ."

And

Thus spoke the weeping fair, whofe artless mind Impartial fcorn'd to model her esteem By native customs; drefs, and face, and air, And manners, lefs; nor yet refolv'd in vain. He, bound by prior loves, the folemn vow Giv'n and receiv'd, to foft compassion gave A tender tear; then with that kind adieu Efteem could warrant, weary'd heav'n with pray'rs To fhield that tender breast he left forlorn.

He ceas'd, an to the cloister's pensive scene ELVIRA fhap'd her solitary way,

The

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The SCHOOL-MISTRESS.

In Imitation of SPENSER.

Audita voces, vagitus & ingens,
Infantumque anima flentes in limine primo.

ADVERTISEMENT.

VIRG.

What particulars in Spenfer were imagined moft proper for the author's imitation on this occafion, are his language, his fimplicity, his manner of description, and a peculiar tenderness of sentiment remarkable throughout his works.

A

H me! full forely is my heart forlorn,

To think how modest worth neglected lies;
While partial fame doth with her blasts adorn
Such deeds alone, as pride and pomp disguise;
Deeds of ill fort, and mischievous emprize!
Lend me thy clarion, goddess! let me try
To found the praise of merit, ere it dies;
Such as I oft have chaunced to espy,
Loft in the dreary fhades of dull obfcurity.

In

In ev'ry village mark'd with little spire,
Embow'r'd in trees, and hardly known to fame,
There dwells, in lowly shed, and mean attire,
A matron old, whom we school-mistress name;
Who boasts unruly brats with birch to tame;
They grieven fore, in piteous durance pent,
Aw'd by the pow'r of this relentless dame;
And oft-times, on vagaries idly bent,

For unkempt hair, or tafk unconn'd, are forely shent.

And all in fight doth rise a birchen tree, Which learning near her little dome did ftowe Whilom a twig of small regard to fee, Tho' now fo wide its waving branches flow; And work the fimple vaffals mickle woe; For not a wind might curl the leaves that blew, But their limbs fhudder'd, and their pulfe beat low; And, as they look'd, they found their horror grew, And fhap'd it into rods, and tingled at the view.

So have I feen (who has not, may conceive,)
A lifeless phantom near a garden plac'd;
So doth it wanton birds of peace bereave,

Of fport, of fong, of pleasure, of repaft;

They start, they stare, they wheel, they look aghast:
Sad fervitude! fuch comfortlefs annoy

May no bold Briton's riper age e'er taste!
Ne fuperftition clog his dance of joy,

Ne vifion empty, vain, his native blifs deftroy.

Near

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Near to this dome is found a patch fo green,
On which the tribe their gambols do display;
And at the door impris'ning board is seen,
Left weakly wights of smaller size should stray;
Eager, perdie, to bask in funny day!

The noises intermix'd, which thence refound,
Do learning's little tenement betray:

Where fits the dame, difguis'd in look profound, And eyes her fairy throng, and turns her wheel around.

Her сар, far whiter than the driven fnow, Emblem right meet of decency does yield: Her apron dy'd in grain, as blue, I trowe, As is the hare-bell that adorns the field: And in her hand, for fcepter, fhe does wield Tway birchen sprays; with anxious fear entwin'd, With dark diftruft, and fad repentance fill'd; And stedfast hate, and fharp affliction join'd, And fury uncontroul'd, and chastisement unkind.

Few but have ken'd, in semblance meet pourtray'd,
The childish faces of old Eol's train;

LIBS, NOTUS, AUSTER: these in frowns array'd,
How then would fare or earth, or fky, or main,
Were the stern god to give his slaves the rein?
And were not she rebellious breafts to quell,
And were not she her ftatutes to maintain,

The cott no more, I ween, were deem'd the cell, Where comely peace of mind, and decent order dwell.

A ruffet

A ruffet ftole was o'er her fhoulders thrown A ruffet kirtle fenc'd the nipping air; 'Twas fimple ruffet, but it was her own ; 'Twas her own country bred the flock fo fair; 'Twas her own labour did the fleece prepare; And, footh to fay, her pupils, rang'd around, Thro' pious awe, did term it paffing rare; For they in gaping wonderment abound, And think,no doubt,fhebeenthegreatestwight on ground

Albeit ne flatt'ry did corrupt her truth,
Ne pompous title did debauch her ear;
Goody, good-woman, goffip, n'aunt, forfooth,
Or dame, the fole additions fhe did hear;
Yet these she challeng'd, these she held right dear:
Ne would esteem him act as mought behove,
Who fhould not honour'd eld with thefe revere:
For never title yet fo mean could prove,

But there was eke a mind which did that title love.

One ancient hen she took delight to feed, The plodding pattern of the bufy dame; Which, ever and anon, impell'd by need, Into her school, begirt with chickens, came; Such favour did her paft deportment claim: And, if neglect had lavish'd on the ground! Fragment of bread, fhe would collect the fame; For well she knew, and quaintly could expound, What fin it were to waste the smallest crumb fhe found,

Herbs