Thus the poor bird, that draws his name
From paradife's honour'd groves,
Careless fatigues his little frame;
Nor finds the refting 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 prospect cloy?
Lend me, foft floth, thy friendly aid,
And give me peace, debarr'd of joy.

Lov't thou yon calm and filent flood,
That never ebbs, that never flows ;
Protected by the circling wood

From each tempeftuous wind that blows ?

An altar on its bank shall 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? 3
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 bowt;

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

And only let me wake to thare

The fweets of friendship and of love."

ODE to HE Á L T H. 1730.

HEALTH, capricious maid!

Why dost thou fhun my peaceful bow'r,

Where I had hope to share thy pow'r,

And bless thy lasting aid ?

Since thou, alas! árt Hown,
It 'vails not whether mufe or grace,
With tempting fmile, frequent the place:
1 figh for thee alone.

Age not forbids thy ftay;

Thou yet might'ft act the friendly part

Thou yet might raise this languid heart;
Why speed fo fwift away?

Thou

Thou scorn'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!

Amid my well-known grove, Where mineral fountains yainly bear Thy boafted name, and titles fair, Why fcorns thy foot to rove?

Thou hear'st the sportsman's claim;
Enabling him, with idle noife,

To drown the mufe's melting voice,
And fright the timorous game.

Is thought thy foe? adieu

Ye midnight lamps! ye curious tomes!
Mine eye o'er hills and valleys roams,

And deals no more with

Is it the clime you fee?

you.

101

Yet 'midft his unremitting fnows,
The poor LAPONIAN's bofom glows;
And fhares bright rays from thee.

13

L:

1

There

There was, there was a time,
When tho' I fcorn'd thy guardian care,
Nor made a vow, nor said a pray'r,'
I did not rue the crime.

Who then more bleft than I?

When the glad school-boy's task was done,
And forth, with jocund sprite, I run

To freedom, and to joy?

How jovial then the day!

What fince have all my labours found,
Thus climbing life, to gaze around,
That can thy loss repay?

Wert thou, alas! but kind,

Methinks no frown that fortune wears,
Nor leffen'd hopes, nor growing cares,
Could fink my chearful mind.

Whate'er my stars include;

What other breasts convert to pain,

My tow'ring mind should soon disdain,

Repair this mouldering cell,
And bleft with objects found at home,
And envying none their fairer dome,
How pleas'd my foul fhould dwell!

Tem

Temperance fhould guard the doors; From room to room should memory ftray, And, ranging all in neat array,

Enjoy her pleafing stores

A

H! what is fcience, what is art,

Or what the pleasure these impart ? Ye trophies which the learn'd purfue Through endless fruitlefs toils, adieu!

What can the tedious tomes bestow,
To foothe the miferies they fhew?
What, like the blifs for him decreed,
Who tends his flock, and tunes his reed!

Say, wretched fancy! thus refin'd
From all that glads the fimpleft hind,
How rare that object, which fupplies
A charm for too difcerning eyes!