And many a Nymph who wreaths her brows with fedge,
And sheds the fresh'ning dew, and lovelier ftill,
The PENSIVE PLEASURES fweet
Then lead, calm Vot'refs, where fome fheety lake
Cheers the lone heath, or some time-hallow'd pile,
Or up-land fallows grey
Reflect its last cool gleam.
But when chill bluft'ring winds, or driving rain,
Forbid my willing feet, be mine the hut,
That from the mountain's fide,
Views wilds, and fwelling floods,
And hamlets brown, and dim-discover'd spires,
And hears their fimple bell, and marks o'er all
Thy dewy fingers draw
While Spring fhall pour his show'rs, as oft he wont,
And bathe thy breathing treffes, meekeft Eve!
While Summer loves to sport
Beneath thy ling'ring light;
While fallow Autumn fills thy lap with leaves;
Or Winter yelling thro' the troublous air,
Affrights thy fhrinking train,
And rudely rends thy robes;
So long, fure-found beneath the Sylvan shed,
Shall FANCY, FRIENDSHIP, SCIENCE, rofe-lip'd HEALTH,
Thy gentleft influence own,
And hymn thy fav'rite name!
VERSES written on a BLANK LEAF,
By Lord LANSDOWN, when he prefented his Works to the Queen, 1732.
Muse expiring, who with earlieft voice,
Made kingsand queens, and beauties charms her choice,
Now on her death-bed, the laft homage pays,
O Queen, to thee; accept her dyings lays.
So at th' approach of death the cygnet tries
To warble one note more, and finging dies.
Hail mighty Queen, whofe powerful fmiles alone
Command obedience, and fecure the throne.
Contending parties, and Plebeian rage,
Had puzzled Loyalty for half an age:
Conqu❜ring our hearts you end the long difpute;
All who have
eyes confefs you abfolute;
To Tory doctrines even Whigs refign,
And in your perfon own the right divine.
Thus fung the mufe, in her last moments fir'd
With CAROLINA's Praife, and then expir'd.
ADVICE to a Lady in AUTUmn.
SSES milk, half a pint, take at seven, or before;
Then sleep for an hour or two, and no more.
At nine ftretch your arms, and oh! think when alone,
There's no pleasure in bed.-MARY, bring me my gown.
Slip on that ere you rife; let your caution be fuch;
Keep all cold from your breaft, there's already too much
Your pinners fet right, your twitcher ty'd on,
Your prayers at an end, and your breakfast quite done;
Retire to fome author, improving and gay,
And with fenfe like your own, fet your mind for the day.
At twelve you may walk, for at this time o' the year,
The fun, like your wit, is as mild as 'tis clear:
But mark in the meadows the ruin of time;
Take the hint, and let life be improv'd in its prime.
Return not in hafte, nor of dreffing take heed;
For beauty like yours, no affiftance can need.
With an appetite, thus, down to dinner you fit,
Where the chief of the feaft is the flow of your wit:
Let this be indulg'd, and let laughter go round;
As it pleases your mind, to your health 'twill redound.
After dinner two glaffes at least, I approve;
Name the first to the king, and the last to your love:
Thus cheerful with wisdom, with innocence gay,
And calm with your joys gently glide thro' the day.
The dews of the evening most carefully shun;
Those tears of the sky for the lofs of the fun.
Then in chat, or at play, with a dance, or a fong,
Let the night, like the day, pass with pleasure along.
All care, but of love, banish far from your mind;
And those you may end, when you please to be kind.
On a Lady's drinking the Bath-Waters.
HE gushing ftreams impetuous flow
In hafte to DELIA's lips to go,
With equal hafte and equal heat,
Who would not rush those lips to meet ?
Blefs'd envy'd ftreams, ftill greater bliss
Attends your warm and liquid kiss.
For from her lips your welcome tide,
Shall down her heaving bofom glide;
There fill each fwelling globe of love,
And touch that heart I ne'er could move.
From hence in foft meanders ftray,
And find at laft the blissful way
Which thought may paint, tho' verse mayn't say.
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