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The Lord who rules this ample scene,
His Consort too with gracious mien,
Her little offspring prattling round,
While Écho lisps their infant found.
And let Good-nature, born to please,
Wait on our steps, and graceful Eafe;
Nor Mirth be wanting as we walk,
Nor Wit to season fober talk ;
Let gay Description too attend,
And Fable told with moral end,
And Satire quick that comes by stealth,
And flowing Laughter, friend to Health.
Meanwhile Attention loves to mark
The deer chat crop the shaven park,
The steep-brow'd hill, or forest wild,
The Noping lawns, and zephyrs mild,
The clouds that blush with ev'ning red,
Or meads with filver fountains féd,
The fragrance of the new-mown hay,
And black-bird chanting on the spray ;
The calm farewel of parting light,
And Ev'ning fad’ning into Night.

Nor wearied yet my roving feet,
Though Night comes on amain, recréat;

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But

But still abroad I walk unseen
Along the star-erlighten’d green ;
Superior joys my soul invite,
Lift, lift to heav'n the dazzled light.
Lo, where the moon enthron'd on high,
Sits steady empress of the sky,
Enticing nations to revere,
And proudly vain of pagan fear;
Or where through clouds she travels fast,
And seems on journey bent in haste,
While thousand hand-maid stars await,
Attendant on their

queen

of state.
'Tis now that in her high controul,
Ambitious of a foreign rule,
She stirs the Ocean to rebel,
And factious waters fond to swell
Guides to battle in her carr,
'Gainst her sister Earth to war.
Thus let me muse on things sublime,
Above the flight of modern rhyme,
And call the foul of Newton down,
Where it sits high on starry throne,
Inventing laws for worlds to come,
Or teaching comets how to roam :

every star,

With him I'd learn of
But four-ey'd Pedantry be far,
And Ignorance in garb of Sense,
With terms of art to make pretence.

Hail happy soil ! illustrious earth!
Which gav'st so many heroes birth ;
Which never wand'ring poet trod,
But felt within th' inspiring God!
In these transporting, solemn shades,
First I salute th' Aonian maids.
Ah lead me, Genius, to thy haunts,
Where Philomel at ev'ning chants,
And as my oaten pipe resounds,
Give music to the forming sounds.
A simple shepherd, yet unknown,
Aspires to snatch an ivy crown,
On daring pinions bold to foar,
Though here thy Waller sung before,
And Johnson dipt his learned pen,
And Sidney pour'd his fancy-flowing strain.

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TO THE

Hon. WILMOT VAUGHAN, Efq; in WALES.

By the Samo.

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E distant realms that hold my friend

Beneath a cold ungenial sky,
Where lab'ring groves with weight of vapours bend,
Or raving winds o'er barren mountains fly;
Restore him quick to London's social clime,
Restore him quick to friendship, love and joyi

Be swift, ye lazy steeds of Time,
Ye moments, all your speed employ,
Behold November's glooms arise,

Pale funs with fainter glory shine,
Dark gathering tempests blacken in the fkies,
And shiv'ring woods their fickly leaves resign.
Is this a time on Cambrian hills to roam,
To court disease in Winter's baleful reign,

To listen to th' Atlantic foam,
While rocks repel the roaring main,

While horror fills the region vast,

Rheumatic tortures Eurus brings,
Pregnant with agues flies the northern blast,
And clouds drop quartans from their fagging wings.
Dost thou explore Sabrina's fountful fource,
Where huge Plinlimmon's hoary height ascends :

Then downward mark her vagrant course,
'Till mix'd with clouds the landscape ends?
Dost thou revere the hallow'd foil

Where Druids old sepulchred lie ;
Or up cold Snowden's craggy summits toil,
And muse on ancient favage liberty?
Ill suit such walks with bleak autumnal air,
Say, can November yield the joys of May ?

When Jove deforms the blasted year,
Can Wallia boaft a chearful day?
The town expects thee. Hark, around,

Through every street of gay resort,
New chariots rattle with awak’ning found,
And crowd the levees, and besiege the court.
The patriot, kindling as his wars ensue,
Now fires his soul with liberty and fame,

Marshals his threat’ning tropes anew,
And gives his hoarded thunders aim.

Now

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