V. Then April, with her fifter May, Shall chafe him from the bowers, And weave fresh garlands every day, To crown the smiling hours. VI. And, if a tear, that speaks regret A glimpse of joy, that we have met, CATHARINA, ADDRESSED TO MISS STAPLETON, (NOW MRS. COURTNEY.) SHE came-she is gone-we have met→→→ The fun of that moment is fet, And feems to have risen in vain. The laft evening ramble we made, Our progrefs was often delayed By the nightingale warbling nigh. We paused under many a tree, And much fhe was charmed with a tone Lefs fweet to Maria and me, Who had witneffed fo lately her own. My numbers that day she had fung, Could infufe into numbers of mine. The longer I heard, I efteemed The work of my fancy the more, And ev'n to myself never feemed Though the pleasures of London exceed In number the days of the year, Catharina, did nothing impede, Would feel herself happier here; For the clofe woven arches of limes On the banks of our river, I know, Are sweeter to her many times Than all that the city can show. So it is, when the mind is endued Then, whether embellished or rude, A lafting, a facred delight. Since then in the rural recefs Catharina alone can rejoice, May it ftill be her lot to poffefs The scene of her fenfible choice! To inhabit a manfion remote From the clatter of ftreet-pacing fteeds, And by Philomel's annual note To measure the life that fhe leads. With her book, and her voice, and her lyre, She will have juft the life she prefers, And ours will be pleasant as hers, Might we view her enjoying it here. THE MORALIZER CORRECTED. A TALE. A HERMIT (or if 'chance you hold A man, once young, who lived retired And, ftaff in hand, fet forth to share Distant a little mile he spied A western bank's ftill funny fide, |