For fee the wintry ftorms are flown,
And gentle Zephyrs fan the air;
Let us the genial influence own,

Let us the vernal pastime share.

The raven plumes his jetty wing
To please his croaking paramour;
The larks responsive ditties fing,
And tell their paffion as they foar.

But truft me, love, the raven's wing
Is not to be compar'd with mine;
Nor can the lark so sweetly fing

As I, who strength with sweetness join.

O! let me all thy steps attend!

I'll point new treasures to thy fight;
Whether the grove thy wish befriend,

Or hedge-rows green, or meadows bright.

I'll fhew my love the clearest rill

Whose streams among the pebbles stray,
These will we fip, and fip our fill,

Or on the flow'ry margin play.

I'll lead her to the thickest brake,
Impervious to the school-boy's eye;
For her the plaifter'd neft I'll make,
And on her downy pinions lie.

When prompted by a mother's care,

Her warmth shall form th' imprifon'd young;

The pleasing task I'll gladly fhare,

Or cheer her labours with my fong.

To bring her food I'll range the fields,
And cull the best of every kind;,
Whatever nature's bounty yields,
And love's affiduous care can find.

And when my lovely mate would stray
To taste the summer sweets at large,

I'll wait at home the live-long day,
And tend with care our little charge.

Then prove with me the sweets of love,
With me divide the cares of life;
No bufh fhall boast in all the grove

So fond a mate, so bleft a wife.

He

He ceas'd his fong. The melting dame
With foft indulgence heard the ftrain;
She felt, fhe own'd a mutual flame,
And hafted to relieve his pain.

He led her to the nuptial bower,
And neftled closely to her fide;
The fondest bridegroom of that hour,
And she, the most delighted bride.

Next morn he wak'd her with a fong,
"Behold, he said, the new-born day!

"The lark his matin peal has rung,
"Arife, my love, and come away.

Together through the fields they stray'd,
And to the murm'ring riv'let's fide;

Renew'd their vows, and hopp'd and play'd,
With honest joy and decent pride.

When oh! with grief the Muse relates
The mournful fequel of my tale;

Sent by an order from the fates,
A gunner met them in the vale.

Alarm'd

Alarm'd the lover cry'd, My dear,
Hafte. hafte away, from danger fly;
Here, gunner, point thy thunder here;
O fpare my love, and let me die.

At him the gunner took his aim;
His aim, alas! was all too true;
O! had he chofe fome other game !
Or fhot as he was wont to do!

Divided pair! forgive the wrong,
While I with tears your fate rehearse;
I'll join the widow's plaintive fong,
And fave the lover in my verse.

The

RAKE.

By a Lady in NEW ENGLAND.

Video meliora proboque,

Deteriora fequor.

A

N open heart, a generous mind,

But paffion's flave, and wild as wind:

In theory, a judge of right;

Though banish'd from its practice quite :

HOR.

So

So loofe, fo prostitute of foul,

His nobler wit becomes the tool

Of every importuning fool :
A thousand virtues misapply'd;

While reafon floats on paffion's tide:

The ruin of the chafte and fair;

The parent's curse, the virgin's snare:
Whofe falfe example leads aftray

The young, the thoughtless, and the gay:
Yet, left alone to cooler thought,

He knows, he fees, he feels his fault;
He knows his fault, he feels, he views,
Detesting what he most pursues:
His judgment tells him, all his gains
For fleeting joys, are lafting pains:
Reason with appetite contending,
Repenting ftill, and still offending:
Abufer of the gifts of nature,

A wretched, felf-condemning creature,
He paffes o'er life's ill-trod ftage;

And dies, in youth, the prey

of age!

The fcorn, the pity of the wife,

Who love, lament him and defpife!

FLOWERS.