Give my Soul each raptur'd Feeling,
Which thy generous Joys bestow,
And when Sorrow's Tears are ftealing,
Touch my Heart with manly Woe.
Then thro' Life, without repining,
In an even Courfe I'll stray,
- Till with hoary Age declining,
Death proclaims his deftin'd Prey.
(By the AUTHOR of The Cave of MORAR.)
HEN bamly Zephyr's gentle Breeze,
Proclaim'd the welcome Spring,
When blooming Verdure cloath'd the Trees,
And Birds began to fing,
Charm'd with the Scene, in mute Surprise
The young PASTORA ftray'd,
Till tender Looks and broken Sighs,
The feeling Breast display'd.
· '
Hail, hail,' fhe cry'd, ye blissful Pow'rs,
Of SYMPATHETIC Joy,
''Tis your's to fill the fleeting Hours
• With Sweets that ne'er can cloy.
In this Retreat with you I'll dwell, • Remote from mortal Care, • Content shall guard the humble Cell, And Health the Feaft prepare.
"Oft as the happy rural Throng,
With frolic Freedom gay,
To Mirth devote the artless Song,
I'll join the sprightly Lay.
When pale Distress, with fault'ring Voice,
• Demands the friendly Tear,
In blifsful Pity's native Guife,
Her drooping Heart I'll chear.
Nor fhall my Breaft defy the Flame,
That speaks the Power of Love,
For oft with DAMON's favourite Name,
'I'll charm the listening Grove.'
She ceas'd the Strain-Swift from the Shade
The happy DAMON flew,
With eager Arms he prefs'd the Maid
So gentle, kind, and true.
To quell the Rage of Love's Alarms,
He flily fnatch'd a Kifs
She blush'd, and own'd she felt the Charms
Of SYMPATHETIC BLISS,
(By the AUTHOR of The Cave of MORAR.)
Weetest Warbler of the Wood,
Raife thy foft bewitching Strain,
And in Pleasure's fprightly Mood,
Free from Sorrow free from Pain ;
Thro' thy airy Mansions stray,
Full of Sport and full of Play.
When the Sun's returning Beam,
Darts propitious from the East,
Dimpling every limpid Stream,
Gilding Nature's flowery veft,
Thro' the Calm protecting Grove,
Chaunt the welcome Songs of Love.
When the Evening's Clouds prevail,
And the chearing Sun retires,
When the Shadows mark the Dale,
And the Beam forfakes the Spires,
Highly mounting from our View,
Give him ftill the last Adieu,
As you skim the verdant Lawn,
Let the youthful Virgin Band,
Early as the Morning's Dawn,
Triping light with Aspects bland,
Guided by thy artless Note,
Thro' the graceful Measure float.
Thus on Freedom's easy Wing,
Let the Mufe, with raptur'd Song,
Hail the first Approach of Spring,
And the grateful Strain prolong,
Till furly Winter's harth Decree,
Restrain her Verfe, and banish thee.
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