IV.

Athwart the park, with angry mien, The Spirit of the Storm was seen, And rent the groves asunder;

First whistling like a shepherd's pipe, But soon with big destruction ripe, And roaring loud as thunder.

V.

To weep and view the pit'less storm
Its desolating work perform,

The Sylvan Nymphs assembled ;
Scar'd at the horror of the sight,
The Dryads shriek'd with wild affright,
The Hamadryads trembled.

VI.

But when the Elm receiv'd the blow, Who can describe PHILEMON's woe Or paint his deep dejection? "Alas!" he cry'd, "my fav'rite tree, "Whose shade has oft protected me, "Wanted itself protection!

VII.

"No more with joy shall I behold Thy mutilated arms unfold

"Their foliage to the spring;

"Nor, when thy lessen'd shade I court,

"View them again in wanton sport

Play with the zephyr's wing.

VIII.

"And where is now thy tufted bower,

"Which, crown'd with many a festive flower,

"Shut out the scorching ray?

"When many a youth, and many a maid,
"Beneath thy ampler branches play'd,
"On RICHARD's* natal day.

1X.

"Ah, luckless Tree! these streaming eyes "With thee too fondly sympathise;

"Thy griefs my pity claim:

"The same sad fate I'm doom'd to mourn, "My feeble limbs the Gout has torn,

"That tempest of the frame!"

* The Christian name of LORD BRAYBROOKE.

[ 5 ]

X.

He ceas'd: when thus an humble bard,
With sorrowing looks of fond regard,
PHILEMON's anguish viewing-

'Forbear these plaintive tears to shed;

The Naiads of a neighbouring* spring
To thee the cup of health shall bring,
And pain no longer wound thee:

'In life's dark storms thou art not tost;
'Nor are thy lovely branches+ lost;
For see-they twine around thee!

XII.

To comfort thy declining age,

• To soothe the gout's malignant rage,
' Around thy couch they stand.'
"Yes, Heav'n is kind!" PHILEMON said,
Then fondly kiss'd the gentle maid,

And clasp'd his RICHARD's hand.

• Sunning-Hill.

†The present LORD BRAYBROOKE,

and his sister, MIS. JALABERT.

INSCRIPTIONS

FOR THE

GROTTO,

AT THE END OF THE OAK WALK, AT BILLINGBEAR.

[On the Outside.]

NOR Parian stone, nor costly shell,
Adorns this humble moss-grown cell;
This lowly roof should ne'er supply
A thought that tends to luxury.

But if a rustic plain retreat,
Fit shelter for a hermit's feet,
Can tempt thee from the open glade,
To rest beneath the tranquil shade;

This Grotto enter:-Hence survey
A lovely landscape, richly gay,
And own that Nature's charms impart
A bliss, beyond the reach of Art.

[ 7 ]

[On the Inside.]

EMBOW'RING oaks, a stately row,
Around their spreading branches throw,
And tow'ring with gigantic size,
Lift their proud summits to the skies.

On either side a verdant lawn
Glitters with dew-drops in the dawn;
In playful herds the speckled deer
Crop the sweet turf, and wanton here.

But when the ev'ning shades prevail,
And twilight steals across the dale.
How mild, how awfully serene,
Appears this beauteous sylvan scene!

Then fancy sees, or seems to see,
Beneath each venerable tree,
Dryads and Hamadryads rove,

Along their consecrated grove: