While the Birds unbounded fly,

And with Mufick fill the Sky.

Now, ev'n now, my Joy runs high.

Be full, ye Courts, be great who will; Open wide the lofty Door,

Seek her on the marble Floor,

In vain ye search, fhe is not there;

In vain ye search the Domes of Care!
Grass and Flowers Quiet treads,
On the Meads, and Mountain-heads,
Along with Pleasure, close ally'd,
Ever by each other's Side:

And often, by the murm'ring Rill,
Hears the Thrush, while all is (till,
Within the Groves of Grongar Hill.

in

To a Gentleman whofe Father was lately dead.

In Imitation of, Quis defiderio fit pudor, &c.

W

I.

Hat decent Time fhall ftay our Tears?

What Bounds fhall our juft Sorrow

Since Fate, relentless to our Pray'rs,

Has giv'n th' irrévocable Blow!

II.

Ye Muses, strike the founding String,
In plaintive Strains his Lofs deplore,
And teach an artless Voice to fing

[know?

The Great, the Bounteous, now no more!

III.

For Him the Wife and Good fhall mourn,

While late Records his Fame declare;

And oft as rolling Years return,

Shall pay his Tomb a grateful Tear.

IV. Ah!

IV.

Ah! what avail their Plaints to thee?

Ah! what avails his Fame declar'd? Thou moan'st alas! the juft Decree, Whence Virtue meets its full Reward.

V.

Tho' fweeter Sounds adorn'd thy Tongue
Than Thracian Orpheus ever play'd;

When, lift'ning to the moving Song,
Each Tree bow'd down its leafy Head:

VI.

Never, ah! never from the Gloom

Of unrelenting Pluto's Sway,

Recall'd, could the thin Shade resume
Its ancient Tenement of Clay.

VII.

Indulgent Patience! Heav'n-born Gueft!
Thy healing Wings around display;

Thou

Thou gently calm'st the stormy Breast,

And driv'ft the Tyrant Grief away.

VIII.

Corroding Care, and eating Pain
By juft Degrees thy Influence own;
And lovely, lasting Peace again

Refumes her long-deferted Throne.

DAMON and CELIA.

W

I.

Here a fair Mead its Verdure spread,
Damon, a Swain, did Celia woo;

Never was feen, or Mead on Green,

A Nymph more fair, or Swain more true.

In humble Strain he told his Pain,

And fu'd as faithful Lovers fue;

The

The humbler He, the loftier She;

For She was fair, and He was true,

III.

Beauty, he cry'd, is fhort-liv'd Pride,

The Wonder of a Year or two;

In vain he tries to moralize;

She ftill is fair, and He is true.

IV.

The Mufe's Aid he gently pray'd;

What may not. Love and Verfe fubdue? Nor Verfe, nor Love, her Heart can move; She ftill is fair, and He is true.

V.

The Pink, the Rofe, for her he chofe,
Narciffus white, and Violet blue;
Unheeded lie their Sweets, and die;

For She was fair, and He was true,