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THE WINTER'S WALK

BEHOLD,

D, my

fair, where'er we rove,

What dreary profpects round us rife;

The naked hill, the leafless grove,

The hoary ground, the frowning skies !

Nor only thought the wasted plain,
Stern Winter in thy force confefs'd;
Still wider fpreads thy horrid reign,
I feel thy power ufurp my breaft.

Enlivening hope, and fond defire,
Refign the heart to fpleen and care;
Scarce frighted love maintains her fire,
And rapture faddens to despair.

In groundless hope, and caufelefs fear,
Unhappy man! behold thy doom;
Still changing with the changeful year,
The flave of funshine and of gloom.

Tir'd with vain joys, and falfe alarms,
With mental and corporeal ftrife,
Snatch me, my Stella, to thy arms,

And fcreen me from the ills of life.

A

A SON G.

NOT the foft fighs of vernal gales,

от

The fragrance of the flowery vales,
The murmurs of the chryftal rill,
The vocal grove, the verdant hill;
Not all their charms, tho' all unite,
Can touch my bofom with delight.

Not all the gems on India's fhore,
Not all Peru's unbounded ftore,
Not all the power, nor all the fame,
That heroes, kings, or poets claim;
Nor knowledge, which the learn'd approve,
To form one with my foul can move,

Yet nature's charms allure my eyes,
And knowledge, wealth, and fame I prize;
Fame, wealth, and knowledge I obtain,
Nor feek I nature's charms in vain ;
In lovely Stella all combine,
And, lovely Stella ! thou art mine.

AN

Hafte-prefs the clufters, fill the bowl;
Apollo! fhoot thy parting ray:
This gives the funfhine of the foul,

This god of health, and verse, and day.

Still-ftill the jocund strain shall flow,
The pulfe with vigorous rapture beat;
My Stella with new charms fhall glow,
And every blifs in wine shall meet.

W I

N TE R.

AN OD E.

No more the morn, with tepid rays,

Unfolds the flower of various hue;
Noon spreads no more the genial blaze,
Nor gentle eve diftills the dew.

The lingering hours prolong the night,
Ufurping darkness fhares the day;
Her mifts reftrain the force of light,
And Phœbus holds a doubtful sway.

By gloomy twilight half reveal'd,

With fighs we view the hoary hill, The leafless wood, the naked field, The fnow-topt cot, the frozen rill.

No

No mufic warbles thro' the grove,
No vivid colours paint the plain;
No more with devious fteps I rove
Thro' verdant paths now fought in vain.

Aloud the driving tempeft roars,

Congeal'd, impetuous fhowers defcend; Hafte, close the window, bar the doors, Fate leaves me Stella, and a friend.

In nature's aid let art fupply

With light and heat my little sphere;
Rouze, rouze the fire, and pile it high,
Light up a conftellation here.

Let mufic found the voice of joy!
Or mirth repeat the jocund tale;
Let love his wanton wiles employ,
And o'er the season wine prevail.

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When mirth's gay tale shall please no more;

Nor mufic charm-tho' Stella fings;
Nor love, nor wine, the Spring restore.

Catch then, O! catch the tranfient hour,
Improve each moment as it flies ;
Life's a fhort Summer-man a flower,
He dies-alas! How foon he dies!

THE

AN EVENING

O D E.

Το

STELLA.

EVENING

VENING now from purple wings

Sheds the grateful gifts she brings;
Brilliant drops bedeck the mead,
Cooling breezes shake the reed;
Shake the reed, and curl the fream
Silver'd o'er with Cynthia's beam;
Near the chequer'd, lonely grove,
Hears and keeps thy fecrets, love.
Stella, thither let us ftray!
Lightly o'er the dewy way.
Phœbus drives his burning car,
Hence, my lovely Stella, far;
In his ftead, the queen of night
Round us pours a lambent light;
Light that seems but just to show
Breafts that beat, and cheeks that glow;
Let us now, in whisper'd joy,
Evening's filent hours employ,
Silence beft, and confcious fhades,
Please the hearts that love invades,
Other pleasures give them pain,
Lovers all but love disdain.

THE

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