O penfive Autumn! how I grieve Ah let me not, with heavy eye, Hafte, Winter, hafte; ufurp the sky; Ill can I bear the motley caft At home unbleft, I gaze around, My distant scenes require; Where all in murky vapours drown'd Are hamlet, hill, and fpire. Though Thomson, fweet defcriptive bard! Infpiring Autumn sung: Yet how fhould we the months regard, That stopp'd his flowing tongue? A a 4 Ah Ah luckless months, of all the rest, For fure he was the gentleft breast That ever fung fo well. And fee, the swallows now difown The roofs they lov'd before; The wood-nymph eyes, with pale affright, While hounds and horns and yells unite To drown the Mufe's reed. Ye fields with blighted herbage brown! Too much we feel from fortune's frown, Where is the mead's unfullied green? The zephyr's balmy gale? And where sweet friendship's cordial mien, That brighten'd every vale? What What though the vine disclose her dyes, And boast her purple store; Not all the vineyard's rich fupplies Can foothe our forrows more. He! he is gone, whose moral ftrain He! he is gone, whose focial vein Fast by the streams he deign'd to praise, To him a votive urn I raise ; To him, and friendly love. Yes there, my friend! forlorn and fad, And there, his lyre; which fate forbad There shall my plaintive fong recount I'll teach mine eyes to flow. The c There leaves, in spite of Autumn, green, And Spring will then again be seen, But no kind funs will bid me share, SONG S. By the Same. I. Navale fring'd with woodland, where grottos abound, And rivulets murmur, and echoes resound, I vow'd to the Mufes my time and my care; my As freedom infpir'd me, I rang'd and I fung; And Daphne's dear name never fell from my tongue: But if once a fmooth accent delighted my ear, I should wish, unawares, that my Daphne might hear. With With fairest ideas my bofom I ftor'd; Ah! whilft I the beauties of nature pursue, II. DAPHNE'S Vifit. E birds! for whom I rear'd the grove, YE With melting lay falute my love: My Daphne with your notes detain : Ye flow'rs before her footsteps rife ; Kind Zephyr! brush each fragrant flow'r, Or never more, O gentle wind, Shall I, from thee, refreshment find. Ye |