But when life's bufier fcene is o'er, And Age fhall give the treffes hoar, I'd fly foft Luxury's marble dome, And make an humble thatch my home, Which floaping hills around enclose,
Where many a beech and brown oak grows; Beneath whose dark and branching bow'rs It's tides a far-fam'd rivers pours: By nature's beauties taught to please, Sweet Tufculane of rural ease!
grott of Peace! in lowly shed Who loves to rest her gentle head. For not the scenes of Attic art
Can comfort care, or footh the heart : Nor burning cheek, nor wakeful eye, For gold, and Tyrian purple fly.
Thither, kind heav'n, in pity lent, Send me a little, and content; The faithful friend, and chearful night, The focial scene of dear delight: The confcience pure, the temper gay, The mufing eve, and idle day. Give me beneath cool fhades to fit, Rapt with the charms of claffic wit: To catch the bold heroic flame That built immortal Græcia's fame. Nor let me fail, meantime, to raise The facred fong to Britain's praise :
To fpurn the shepherd's fimple reeds And paint heroic ancient deeds Record old ARTHUR's magic tale, And EDWARD, fierce in fable mail. Sing royal BRUTUS' lawless doom, And brave BONDUCA, Scourge of Rome; Great PENDRAGON's fair-branched line, Stern ARVIRAGE, and old LOCRine.
O ever to sweet Poefie, Let me live true votary!
She shall lead me by the hand, Queen of foft fmiles and folace bland! She from her facred ftores shall shed Ambrofial flow'rets o'er my head : She fhall be my blooming bride, With her as years fucceffive glide, I'll ever hold fweet dalliance, Enwrapt as in fome magic trance.
S late I ftrove LUCILLA's lip to kiss, She with discurtefee reprov'd my will; Doft thou, she said, affect so pleasant bliss, A fimple shepherd, and a lofell vile ? Not Fancy's hand fhould join my courtly lip To thine, as I myself were faft afleep.
As thus fhe spake, full proud and boasting lasse, And as a peacocke pearke, in dalliance She bragly turned her ungentle face, And all difdaining ey'd my shape afkaunce: But I did blush, with grief and shame yblent, Like morning rose with hoary dewe besprent.
Tell me, my fellows all, am I not fair?
Has fell enchantrefs blafted all my charms? Whilom mine head was fleek with treffed hayre, My laughing eyne did fhoot out love's alarms : E'en KATE did deemen me the fairest fwain, When erft I won this girdle on the plain.
My lip with vermil was embellished, My bagpipes notes loud and delicious were, The milk-white lilly, and the rose so red, Did on my face depeinten lively cheere, My voice as foote as mounting larke did shrill, My look was blythe as MARG'RET's at the mill.
But fhe forfooth, more fair than MADGE OF KATE, A dainty maid, did deign not fhepherd's love; Nor wift what THENOT told us fwains of late; That VENUS fought a fhepherd in a grove; Nor that a heav'nly God who PHOEBUS height, To tend his flock with fhepherds did delight.
Ah! 'tis that VENUS with accurft defpight, That all my dolour, and my shame has made! Nor does remembrance of her own delight, For me one drop of pity fweet perfuade? Aye hence the glowing rapture may she mifs, Like me be fcorn'd, nor ever taste a kifs!
HE Graces fought in yonder ftream,
THE To cool the fervid day,
When love's malicious godhead came, And ftole their robes away.
Proud of the theft, the little god
Their robes bade DELIA wear;
While they asham'd to stir abroad, Remain all naked here.
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