Oh, quit the room! oh, quit the deathful bed!
Or thou wilt die-fo tender is thy heart!
O leave me, Delia, ere thou fee me dead;
These weeping friends will do thy mournful part!
Let them, extended on the decent bier,
Convey the corfe in melancholy state;
Thro' all the village spread the tender tear,
While pitying maids our wond'rous loves relate!
WHAT fcenes of blifs my raptur'd fancy fram'd,
In fome lone spot with Peace and thee retir'd!
Tho' Reason then my fanguine fondness blam'd,
I ftill believ'd what flatt'ring Love infpir'd!
But now my wrongs have taught my humbled mind,
To dangerous blifs no longer to pretend:
In books, a calm but fix'd content to find-
Safe joys, that on ourselves alone depend.
With them, the gentle moments I beguile
In learned eafe and elegant delight;
Compare the beauties of each different style,
Each various ray of wit's diffufive light:
Now mark the ftrength of Milton's facred lines,
Senfe rais'd by genius, fancy rul'd by art;
Where all the glory of the Godhead shines,
And earlieft innocence inchants the heart.
Now, fir'd by Pope and virtue, leave the age
In low purfuit of self-undoing wrong;
And trace the author thro' his moral page,.
Whose blameless life ftill anfwers to his fong.
If time and books my lingering pain can heal,
And reafon fix it's empire o'er my heart;
My patriot breaft a nobler warmth fhall feel,
And glow with love where weakness has no part,
Thy heart, Lyttelton, fhall be my guide;
It's fire fhall warm me, and it's worth improve: Thy heart, above all envy, and all pride,
Firm as man's sense, and soft as woman's love.
And you, O Weft! with her your partner dear,
Whom focial mirth and useful fenfe commend;
With learning's feaft my drooping mind fhall chear,
Glad to escape from Love to such a friend.
But why fo long my weaker heart deceive!
Ah, ftill I love in Pride and Reason's spite!
No books, alas! my painful thoughts relieve;
And while I threat, this Elegy I write.
OH, form'd alike to ferve us and to please ;
Polite with honefty, and learn'd with ease;
With heart to act, with genius to retire;
Open, yet wife; tho' gentle, full of fire:
With thee I fcorn the low constraint of art,
Nor fear to trust the follies of my heart!
Hear then from what my long despair arose,
The faithful story of a lover's woes.
When, in a fober melancholy hour,
Reduc'd by Sickness under Reafon's pow'r,
I view'd my state, too little weigh'd before,
And Love himself could flatter me no more,
My Delia's hopes I would no more deceive,
But whom my paffion hurt, thro' friendship leave;
I chose the coldest words my heart to hide,
And cure her fex's weakness thro' it's pride.
The prudence which I taught, I ill purfu'd;
The charm my reafon broke, my heart renew'd.
Again, fubmiffive to her feet I came;
And prov'd, too well, my paffion, by my fhame;
While fhe, fecure in coldness, or disdain,
Forgot my love, or triumph'd in it's pain;
Began with higher views her thoughts to raise,
And scorn'd the humble poet of her praife!
She let each little lye o'er truth prevail,
And strengthen'd, by her faith, each groundless tale;
Believ'd the groffeft arts that malice try'd;
Nor once, in thought, was on her lover's fide.
Oh, where were then my fcenes of fancy'd life!
Oh, where the friend, the mistress, and the wife!
Her years of promis'd love were quickly paft;
Not too revolving moons could fee them last!
To Stow's delightful fcenes I now repair,
In Cobham's fmile to lose the gloom of care!
Nor fear that he my weakness should despise,
In nature learned, and humanely wife.
There Pit, in manners foft, in friendship warm,
With mild advice my lift'ning grief shall charm:
With fenfe to counfel, and with wit to please;
A Roman's virtue, with a courtier's ease!
Nor you, my friend, whofe heart is ftill at reft,
Contemn the human weakness of my breaft:
Reafon may chide the faults the cannot cure,
And pains, which long we fcorn'd, we oft endure.
Tho' wifer cares employ your ftudious mind;
Form'd with a foul fo elegantly kind,
Your breaft may lofe the calm it long has known,
And learn my woes to pity, by it's own.
The author is concerned to find, that what was intended as the petition of Mercy against Justice, has been conftrued as the plea of Humanity against Cruelty. She is certain that cruelty could never be apprehended from the gentleman to whom this is addreffed; and the poor animal would have fuffered more as the victim of domestick economy, than of philofophical curiofity.
The scatter'd gleanings of a feaft
My frugal meals fupply: But if thine unrelenting heart That flender boon deny,
The chearful light, the vital air,
Are bleffings widely given ;
Let nature's commoners enjoy
The common gifts of Heaven.
The well-taught philofophick mind
To all compaffion gives;
Cafts round the world an equal eye,
And feels for all that lives.
If mind, as ancient fages taught,
A never-dying flame,
Still fhifts thro' matter's varying forms,
In every form the fame:
Beware, left, in the worm you crush,
A brother's foul you find;
And tremble, left thy lucklefs hand
Diflodge a kindred mind.
Or, if this tranfient gleam of day
Be all of life we fhare;
Let Pity plead within thy breast,
That little all to spare.
So may thy hofpitable board
With health, and peace be crown'd; And every charm of heart-felt ease,
Beneath thy roof be found.
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