Then will I mufe, and penfive fay,
Why did not these enjoyments laft ?
How sweetly wafted I the day,

While innocence allow'd to waste?
Ambition's toils alike are vain,
But ah! for pleasure yield us pain.

The Princess ELIZABETH:

A Ballad alluding to a story recorded of her, when she was prifoner at WOODSTOCK, 1554.

WILL you hear how once repining

Great ELIZA captive lay?

Each ambitious thought refigning,
Foe to riches, pomp, and fway?

While the nymphs and fwains delighted
Tript around in all their pride;
Envying joys by others flighted,
Thus the royal maiden cry'd.

"Bred on plains, or born in vallies,
Who would bid those scenes adieu ?

Stranger to the arts of malice,

Who would ever courts pursue ?

Malice never taught to treasure,
Cenfure never taught to bear:
Love is all the fhepherd's pleafure;
Love is all the damfel's care.

How can they of humble station
Vainly blame the pow'rs above?

Or accufe the difpenfation

Which allows them all to love?

Love

Love like air is widely given;

Pow'r nor chance can these restrain;
Trueft, nobleft gifts of heaven!
Only pureft on the plain!

Peers can no fuch charms discover,
All in ftars and garters drest,
As, on Sundays, does the lover
With his nofegay on his breast.

Pinks and rofes in profufion,

Said to fade when CHLOE's near; Fops may use the same allufion; But the fhepherd is fincere.

Hark to yonder milk-maid finging
Chearly o'er the brimming pail;
Cowflips all around her fpringing
Sweetly paint the golden vale,

Never yet did courtly maiden
Move fo fprightly, look fo fair;
Never breaft with jewels laden
Pour a fong fo void of care,

Would indulgent heav'n had granted
Me fome rural damfel's part!
All the empire I had wanted

Then had been my fhepherd's heart.

Then,

Then, with him, o'er hills and mountains,
Free from fetters, might I rove:
Fearless taste the cryftal fountains;

Peaceful fleep beneath the grove.

Ruftics had been more forgiving;
Partial to my virgin bloom:
None had envy'd me when living;
None had triumph'd o'er my tomb."

ODE

ODE to a Young Lady,

Somewhat too follicitous about her manner

of expreffion.

URVEY, my fair! that lucid ftream

SUR

Sown the

Adown the smiling valley stray;

Would art attempt, or fancy dream,
To regulate its winding way?

So pleas'd I view thy fhining hair
In loose difhevel'd ringlets flow:
Not all thy art, not all thy care
Can there one fingle grace beftow.

Survey again that verdant hill,

With native plants enamel'd o'er;
Say, can the painter's utmost skill
Inftruct one flow'r to please us more?

As vain it were, with artful dye,

To change the bloom thy cheeks disclose;

And oh may LAURA, ere she try,

With fresh vermilion paint the rose.

Hark, how the wood-lark's tuneful throat

Can every study'd grace excel;

Let art conftrain the rambling note,
And will fhe, LAURA, please so well?