Yet why, ASTERIA, tell us why
We fcorn the crowd, when you are nigh;
Why then does reafon seem so fair,
Why learning then, deferve our care?
Who can unpleas'd your shelves behold,
While you fo fair a proof unfold
What force the brightest genius draws
From polifh'd wifdom's written laws?
Where are our humbler tenets flown?
"What strange perfection bids us own
That blifs with toilfome science dwells,
And happieft he, who most excels?
The Lady of Quality to whom the foregoing Verses were addressed-o Lady Luxborough, whose po= = 2tical name was Asterias;
VISIT to the fame in Winter, 1748.
N fair ASTERIA's blissful plains,
Where ever-blooming fancy reigns,
How pleas'd we pass the winter's day;
And charm the dull-ey'd fpleen away!
No linnet, from the leaflefs bough,
Pours forth her note melodious now;
But all admire ASTERIA's tongue,
Nor wifh the linnet's vernal fong.
No flow'rs emit their tranfient rays:
Yet fure ASTERIA's wit difplays
More various tints, more glowing lines,
And with perennial beauty fhines.
Tho' rifled groves and fetter'd ftreams
But ill befriend a poet's dreams :
ASTERIA'S prefence wakes the lyre;
And well fupplies poetic fire.
The fields have loft their lovely dye;
No chearful azure decks the sky;
Yet ftill we blefs the louring day:
ASTERIA fmiles-and all is gay.
Hence let the mufe no more prefume
To blame the winter's dreary gloom;
Accufe his loitering hours no more;
But ah! their envious hafte deplore!
For foon, from wit and friendship's reign,
The focial hearth, the sprightly vein,
I go-to meet the coming year,
On favage plains, and deferts drear!
1 go-to
feed on pleasures flown,
Nor find the fpring my lofs atone!
But 'mid the flowery fweets of May
With pride recal this winter's day,
Irregular O DE after SICKNESS, 1749.
Melius, cum venerit ipfa, canemus.
OO long a ftranger to repose,
At length from pain's abhorred couch I rofe, And wander'd forth alone;
To court once more the balmy breeze,
And catch the verdure of the trees,
'Twas from a bank with panfies gay
I hail'd once more the chearful day,
The fun's forgotten beams:
O fun! how pleasing were thy rays,
Reflected from the polish'd face
Of yon refulgent streams!
Rais'd by the scene my feeble tongue
Effay'd again the fweets of fong:
And thus in feeble strains and flow,
The loitering numbers 'gan to flow.
"Come, gentle air! my languid limbs restore,
And bid me welcome from the Stygian shore :
For fure I heard the tender fighs,
I feem'd to join the plaintive cries
Of hapless youths, who thro' the myrtle grove
Bewail for ever their unfinish'd love:
To that unjoyous clime,
Torn from the fight of thefe etherial skies;
Debarr'd the luftre of their DELIA's eyes;
And banish'd in their prime.
Come, gentle air! and, while the thickets bloom,
Convey the jafmin's breath divine,
Convey the woodbine's rich perfume,
Nor fpare the fweet-leaft eglantine.
And may'st thou fhun the rugged ftorm
Till health her wonted charms explain,
With rural pleasure in her train,
To greet me in her faireft form.
While from this lofty mount I view
The fons of earth, the vulgar crew,
Anxious for futile gains beneath me stray, And feek with erring ftep contentment's obvious way.
Come, gentle air! and thou celeftial mufe,
Thy genial flame infufe;
Enough to lend a penfive bofom aid,
And gild retirement's gloomy fhade;
Enough to rear fuch ruftic lays
As foes may flight, but partial friends will praise."
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