But foon the pageant fades away!
'Tis nature only bears perpetual sway.
We pierce the counterfeit delight,
Fatigu'd with fplendor's irksome beams.
Fancy again demands the fight

Of native groves, and wonted streams,

Pants for the scenes that charm'd her youthful eyes, Where truth maintains her court, and banishes disguise.

Then hither oft ye fenators retire,

With nature here high converse hold;
For who like STAMFORD her delights admire,
Like STAMFORD fhall with fcorn behold

Th' unequal bribes of pageantry and gold;
Beneath the British oak's majestic shade,
Shall fee fair truth, immortal maid,
Friendship in artless guife array'd,
Honour, and moral beauty fhine

With more attractive charms, with radiance more divine.

Yes, here alone did highest heav'n ordain

The lafting magazine of charms,

Whatever wins, whatever warms,
Whatever fancy feeks to fhare,
The great, the various, and the fair,
For ever fhould remain !

Her impulse nothing may reftrain-
Or whence the joy 'mid columns, tow'rs,
'Midft all the city's artful trim,
To rear fome breathlefs vapid flow'rs,

Or fhrubs fuliginously grim :
From rooms of filken foliage vain,
To trace the dun far diftant grove,
Where fmit with undiffembled pain,
The wood-lark mourns her abfent love,
Borne to the dusty town from native air,
To mimic rural life, and foothe fome vapour'd fair?

But how muft faithlefs art prevail,
Should all who tafte our joy fincere,
To virtue, truth, or fcience dear,
Forego a court's alluring pale,

For dimpled brook and leafy grove,

For that rich luxury of thought they love!
Ah no, from these the public sphere requires
Example for its giddy bands;

From these impartial heav'n demands
To spread the flame itself inspires;

To fift opinion's mingled mafs,

Imprefs a nation's tafte, and bid the fterling pafs,

Happy, thrice happy they,

Whofe graceful deeds have exemplary fhone
Round the gay precincts of a throne,

With mild effective beams!

Who bands of fair ideas bring,
By folemn grott, or fhady spring,

To join their pleafing dreams!
Theirs is the rural blifs without alloy,
They only that deserve, enjoy,

What

What tho' nor fabled dryad haunt their grove,
Nor naiad near their fountains rove,
Yet all embody'd to the mental fight,
A train of fmiling virtues bright

Shall there the wife retreat allow,

Shall twine triumphant palms to deck the wanderer's brow,

And though by faithlefs friends alarm'd,
Art have with nature wag'd prefumptuous war;
By SEYMOUR'S winning influence charm'd,
In whom their gifts united fhine,

No longer fhall their counfels jar,

'Tis hers to mediate the

peace;

Near PERCY-lodge, with awe-ftruck mien,
The rebel feeks her lawful queen,

And havock and contention cease.
I fee the rival pow'rs combine,

And aid each other's fair defign;

Nature exalt the mound where art shall build; Art shape the gay alcove, while nature paints the field,

Begin, ye fongsters of the grove!
O warble forth your noblest lay;
Where SOMERSET Vouchfafes to rove
Ye leverets freely fport and play,

-Peace to the ftrepent horn!

Let no harsh diffonance difturb the morn,
No founds inelegant and rude

Her facred folitudes profanę

Unless

Unless her candour not exclude

The lowly, shepherd's votive ftrain,

Who tunes his reed amidst his rural chear, Fearful, yet not averfe, that SOMERSET fhould hear.

ODE to MEMORY. 1748.

Memory! celeftial maid!

Who glean'ft the flow'rets cropt by time;

And, fuffering not a leaf to fade,

Η

Preferv'ft the bloffoms of our prime; Bring, bring those moments to my mind When life was new, and LESBIA kind.

And bring that garland to my fight,
With which my favo'd crook fhe bound;
And bring that wreath of rofes bright
Which then my feftive temples crown'd.
And to my raptur'd ear convey
The gentle things fhe deign'd to say.

And sketch with care the mufe's bow'r,
Where Isis rolls her filver tide;

Nor yet omit one reed or flow'r

That fhines on CHERWELL's verdant fide; If fo thou may't thofe hours prolong,

When polish'd LYCON join'd my song.

The

The fong it 'vails not to recite

But fure, to foothe our youthful dreams,
Those banks and ftreams appear'd more bright
Than other banks, than other streams:
Or by thy foftening pencil fhewn,
Affume they beauties not their own?

And paint that sweetly vacant fcene,
When, all beneath the poplar bough, *
My fpirits light, my foul ferene,

I breath'd in verfe one cordial vow:
That nothing fhould my foul infpire,
But friendship warm, and love entire.

Dull to the fenfe of new delight,

On thee the drooping mufe attends; As fome fond lover, robb'd of fight, On thy expreffive pow'r depends; Nor would exchange thy glowing lines, To live the lord of all that shines.

But let me chafe thofe vows away
Which at ambition's fhrine I made;
Nor ever let thy skill difplay

Those anxious moments, ill repaid:
Oh! from my breast that season rafe,
And bring my childhood in its place.

Bring me the bells, the rattle bring,
And bring the hobby I beftrade;

When