Go then to her, whose soft request

Bade my blest hands thy form prepare ; Ah go, and sweetly footh her tender breast With many a warble wild, and artless air.

For know, full oft, while o'er the mead

Bright June extends her fragrant reign,
The Fair shall place thee near her Numb’ring head
To court the gales that cool the sultry plain;

Then shall the Sylphs, and Sylphids bright,

Mild Genii all, to whose high care
Her virgin charms are giv'n, in circling fight
Skim sportive round thee in the fields of air. ·

Some, Autt'ring 'mid thy trembling strings,

Shall catch the rich melodious spoil,
And lightly brush thee with their purple wings
To aid the zephyrs in their tuneful toil;

While others check each ruder gale,

Expel rough Boreas from the sky, Nor let a breeze its heaving breath exhale, Save such as softly pant, and panting die.

Then, as thy swelling accents rise,

Fair Fancy waking at the sound,
Shall paint bright visions on her raptur'd eyes,
And waft her spirits to enchanted ground,

To

131

To myrtle groves, Elysian greens,

'Mid which fome fav’rite youth shall rove, Shall meet, Ihall lead her through the glitt'ring scenes, And all be music, extacy, and love.

Non eft vivere, sed valere, vita. MARTIAL. By Mr. DUNCOMBE, Fellow of Corpus Christi College,

CAMBRIDGE.

1.

HE

EALTH! to thee thy votry owes

All the blessings life bestows,
All the sweets the summer yields,
Melodious woods, and clover'd fields;
By thee he tastes the calm delights

Of studious days and peaceful nights :
By thee his eye each scene with rapture views ;
The Muse shall sing thy gifts, for they inspire the Muse.

II.
Does increase of wealth impart
Transports to a bounteous heart?

Does the fire with smiles survey
His prattling children round him play?

Does

EL

Does love with mutual blushes streak

The swain's and virgin's artless cheek?
From Health these blushes,smiles and transports flow;
Wealth, children, love itself, to HEALTH their relishowe.

III.
Nymph! with thee, at early Morn,
Let me brush the waving corn;

And, at Noon-tide's sultry hour,
O bear me to the wood-bine bow'r !
When Evening lights her glow-worm, lead

To yonder dew-enamelld mead;
And let me range at Night those glimm’ring groves,
Where stillness ever sleeps, and Contemplation roves.

IV.
This my tributary lay,
Grateful at thy shrine I pay,

Who for sev'n whole years haft shed
Thy balmy blessings o'er my head;
O! let me still enamour'd view

Those fragrant lips of rosy hue,
Nor think there needs th' allay of fharp diseafe,
To quicken thy repast, and give it pow'r to please.

V.
Now by swifteft Zephyrs drawn,
Urge thy chariot o'er the lawn

In

In yon gloomy grotto laid,

PALEMON asks thy kindly aid ;
If goodness can that aid engage,

O hover round the virtuous fage :
Nor let one sigh for his own sufforings rise ;
Each human suff’ring fills his sympathizing eyes.

VI.

Venus from Æneas' fide

With successful efforts try'd

To extract th' envenom'd dart,
That baffled wife Iapis' art,
If thus, Hygeia, thou couldst prove

Propitious to the queen of love,
Now on thy favour'd HEBERDEN bestow
Thy choicest healing pow'rs, for Pallas asks them now.

VII.
What though, banish'd from the fight,
To the hero's troubled sight,

Ranks on ranks tumultuous rose
Of Aying friends and conqu’ring foes ;
He only panted to obtain

A laurel wreath for thousands Nain;
On nobler views intent, the Sage's mind
Pants to delight, instruct, and humanise mankind.
* Author of Clarissa.

A VERN AL ODE.

B В

Sent to his Grace the Lord Archbishop of CANTERBURY,

March 12, 1754.
By FRANCIS FAWKES, A. M.

I.
RIGHT God of day, whose genial power

Revives the buried seed,
That spreads with foliage every bower,

Wich verdure every mead,
Bid all thy vernal breezes fly,

Diffusing mildness through the sky;
Give the soft season to our drooping plains,
Sprinkled with rosy dews, and falutary rains.

II.
Enough has Winter's hand severe

Hurl'd all his terrors round,
Chillid the fair dawning of the year,

And whiten'd all the ground:
Give but thy vital beams to play,

The frozen scenes will melt away;
And, mix'd in sprightly dance, the blooming Hours
Will’wake the drowsy Spring, and Spring awake the

[flowers.

III. Let