'Twas from AVONA's banks the maid Diffus'd her lovely beams;

And every fhining glance difplay'd

The naiad of the streams.

Soft as the wild-duck's teñder young,
That float on Avon's tide;
Bright as the water-lily, fprung,
And glittering near its fide.

Fresh as the bordering flowers, her bloom :
Her eye, all mild to view;
The little halcyon's azure plume

Was never half fo blue.

Her fhape was like the reed fo fleek,

So taper, ftrait, and fair;

Her dimpled fmile, her blufhing cheek,
How charming fweet they were!

Far in the winding Vale retir'd,

This peerless bud I found;

And shadowing rocks, and woods cónfpir'd
To fence her beauties round.

That nature in fo lone a dell

Should form a nymph so sweet!

Or fortune to her fecret cell

Conduct my wandering feet!

Gay

Gay lordlings fought her for their bride,
But fhe would ne'er incline:

"Prove to your equals true, fhe cry'd,
As I will prove to mine.

'Tis STREPHON, on the mountain's brow,
Has won my right good will

To him I gave my plighted vow,
With him I'll climb the hill."

Struck with her charms and gentle truth,
I clafp'd the conftant fair;
To her alone I gave my youth,
And vow my future care.

And when this vow fhall faithlefs prove,
Or I those charms forego;

The ftream that faw our tender love,
That stream fhall cease to flow.”

ODE

ODE to INDOLENCE, 1750.

A

H! why for ever on the wing

Perfifts my weary'd foul to roam ?
Why, ever cheated, ftrives to bring
Or pleasure or contentment home?

Thus the poor bird, that draws his name
From paradife's honour'd groves,
Careless fatigues his little frame;
Nor finds the resting place he loves.

Lo! on the rural moffy bed

My limbs with careless ease reclin'd;
Ah, gentle floth! indulgent spread
The fame foft bandage o'er my mind.

For why should lingering thought invade,
Yet every worldly profpect cloy?
Lend me, soft sloth, thy friendly aid,
And give me peace, debarr'd of joy.

Lov'ft thou yon calm and filent flood,
That never ebbs, that never flows
Protected by the circling wood

From each tempeftuous wind that blows?

An

An altar on its bank fhall rife,

Where oft thy votary shall be found; What time pale autumn lulls the skies, And fickening verdure fades around.

Ye bufy race, ye factious train,

That haunt ambition's guilty fhrine;
No more perplex the world in vain,
But offer here your vows with mine.

And thou, puiffant queen! be kind :
If e'er I fhar'd thy balmy pow'r;
If e'er I fway'd my active mind,

To weave for thee the rural bow'r;

Diffolve in fleep each anxious care;
Each unavailing figh remove;

And only let me wake to fhare

The fweets of friendship and of love.

VOL. I.

K

ODE

ODE to HEALTH, 1730.

HEALTH, capricious maid!

Why doft thou fhun my peaceful bow'r,

Where I had hope to fhare thy pow'r,

And blefs thy lafting aid?

Since thou, alas! art flown,

It 'vails not whether mufe or grace,
With tempting fmile, frequent the place :
I figh for thee alone.

Age not forbids thy stay;

Thou yet might'ft act the friendly part;

Thou yet might'ft raise this languid heart;
Why fpeed fo fwift away?

Thou fcorn'ft the city-air;

I breathe fresh gales o'er furrow'd ground,
Yet haft not thou my wishes crown'd,
O falfe! O partial fair!

I plunge into the wave;
And tho' with pureft hands I raise
A rural altar to thy praise,

Thou wilt not deign to fave.

Amid