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ENTERED IN STATIONERS' HALL.
TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE FLORA, COUNTESS OF LOUDOUN, THE FOLLOWING POEMS ARE WITH PERMISSION, HUMBLY INSCRIBED, BY YOUR LADYSHIP'S EVER GRATEFUL, AND OBEDIENT HUMBLE SERVANT, JANET LITTLE,
B
V
WILL gentle LOUDOUN deign to lend an ear,
When nature speaks, and sorrow drops a tear?
Within your walls my happiness I found
Luxuriant flourish, like the plants around:
Blithe as the birds that perch on yonder spray,
In joyous notes, I pour'd the willing lay.
Beneath your roof there humble lines had birth,
Whose honour'd Patrons now lie low in earth;
Or borne by Fate far from their native shore,
With smiles auspicious glad my heart no more.
Here youth and beauty, innocence and love,
I joy'd to see, to serve, and to approve:
Here honour'd Age to all around did show,
That virtue's paths alone can bliss bestow:
Here moral lessons spoke from ev'ry part,
And peace and kindness wrote them on my heart.
Hoary inhabitants around the place,
Whose faithful services obtain'd that grace,
'Mid ev'ry comfort rural life affords,
Shower prayers and blessings, on its former Lords.
To you the young are taught to lift the eye,
Mild morning sun of their unclouded sky.
Blest in a lot left nothing to desire,
Those happy scenes did future hopes inspire,
That thus my life in careless ease might run,
My age supported by my master's son;
In him, that goodness, and those virtues find,
Which grateful numbers meet in you combin'd.
Ah! like a changeful vision of the night,
Those scenes are fled, and death appals my sight!
Where'er I turn, lamented tombs appear,
Or parting sails extort the bitter tear!
To distant realms the darling child too gone;
O guard him heav'n, and let me weep alone!
For ev'ry tear, let countless blessings fall
On thy sad mother in thy grandsire's hall!
Forgive, fair nymph, the dictates of despair;
Grief flies, for comfort, to the tender fair.
The good and great, we fondly think have pow'rs,
Can charm to ease our sad and anxious hours:
Else why to you should I at Fate repine?
The friends I mourn, alas! were doubly
thine!
For their dear sakes, bid lines they priz'd still live,
And grant that shelter they no more can give.
Yet, the sad verse how should you patronize
That wakes up anguish in a heart at ease!
For their dear sakes my pray'rs are ever thine,
Nor can I more were your protection mine.
But she on public candour firm relies,
And humbly begs they'll pardon what is wrong.
Thy whispers, as the spicy gale,
Do drooping trav'llers cheer.
Incline thou, to shine now
Upon me as I go;
Thy favour shall ever
Alleviate my wo.
Dejected, restless and forlorn,
In unfrequented bow'rs!
Attending still on Hymen's rites,
Thou decorates the chain;
Thy smile the sprightly maid invites
And lures the youthful swain:
Still easing, and pleasing,
When stern misfortune stares,
'Mid losses, and crosses,
Thou lightens all their cares.
Not grieving, when leaving
This scene of dole and care,
But viewing, pursuing
A more exalted sphere.
O HAPPINESS! where art thou to be found?
What bow'r is blest with thy perpetual gleam?
From court, from cot, ev'n while they seek thy stay,
On thy soft pinions, rapid is thy flight.
Thy name, not substance, is to mortals known.
Repulse from thee makes drunkards stand aghast,
Who nightly revel o'er the flowing bowl.
In vain they seek thy progress to retard,
A guest too noble to be thus detain'd.
Thy quick elopement shews their sad mistake;
Baulks hope, and certain disappointment brings.
Misers for thee grope 'midst their bags of wealth,
Nor find thy residence in golden ore:
Fear, anxious care, bleak av'rice, and distrust,
Forbid thy access to the grov'ling soul.
Not riches, though in gorgeous pomp array'd,
With all the dazzling splendour of the east,
Secure thee 'mongst the gay, fantastic train.
Pride and Ambition, vulture-like, appear,
Gain access to the op'lent master's heart,
And bid defiance to thy sacred charms,
Now swiftly banish'd from his sumpt'ous seat.
Nor even the voice of honour can recal
Thy hasty steps: thee Pleasure sues in vain;
A stranger to the gay, licentious crowd,
The giddy flutt'ring sons of dance and song.
Thou to the libertine dost ever prove
An airy phantom; mock'st his eager grasp;
Leaves him to cruel disappointment's rage,
Remorse, despair, the inmates of his soul.
In hopes to meet thee in some distant clime,
The ardent warrior quits his native shore,
Inur'd to martial toil; at danger smiles,
And unconcern'd treads o'er the heaps of slain:
His en'mies fly before him; at his feet
Millions fall prostrate, and for mercy call:
Yet still in vain he makes his court to thee;
Thou scarce vouchsafes him one auspicious smile.
See lovers too, in yon sequester'd grove,
Seek lonely walks, and spend their sighs in vain,
For thee! For what? for some bewitching fair,
Whose smiles they deem can boundless bliss secure:
Their views contracted would thee thus confine.
Nor art thou found in Hymen's sacred rites,
Though silken cords of sweet affection bind.
A thousand ills encompass the fond pair,
And mix their sweets with bitterness and wo.
Bent in pursuit, through many a devious track,
All seem to say, "Successless is the search;
To nobler objects henceforth bend your view."
All hail, Religion! thou celestial power!
Thy force alone can soothe the anxious breast,
And quite dispel the solitary gloom,
There sullen shades that steal upon the soul.
O let me hear thy salutary voice!
Thy sacred dictates let me still revere;
And ever prone in virtue's steps to tread,
My hopes, my wishes center'd all in Him,
Whose hand omnipotent the world did frame.
O Thou, great Source of all supreme delight!
Without reluctance may I ever prove
Submissive to thy providential sway,
To know and to observe thy laws divine,
My sole solicitude.
How mean soe'er my humble station be,
Content, and calm serenity of mind,
Shall pave my paths along the rugged vale;
And when the vain delusive vision's past,
Then happiness, in all its vast extent
Unmeasurable, ignorant of bounds,
Shall through eternal ages be my lot;
The lot of all whose hope is fix'd on thee.
WHAT means this silent, solitary gloom?
All nature in her dishabille appears;
Contracted flow'rets yield no sweet perfume,
And ev'ry grove a dismal aspect wears.
Nor do the joys of Autumn glad our plains;
Our landscapes are in sable weeds array'd;
No jocund sound is heard among the swains,
And nought but sighs from each dejected maid.
Rude Eurus echoing through the distant woods,
With harsh, discordant note, augments our wo;
While rains, impetuous, from the bursting clouds,
Our verdant walks and pleasure-grounds o'erflow.
Incumber'd by their foliage now, the trees,
With leaves, untimely dropp'd, bestrew the ground:
Because Matilda's presence does not please,
All bleak and dismal seem the fields around.
Her placid looks bespoke a mind serene,
Each feature wore an unaffected smile;
Her's was the pow'r to beautify the scene,
And sweetly gay the languid hours beguile.
Her count'nance milder than an April morn,
When Phoebus first emits his infant rays;
More radiant beauties do her mind adorn,
Than ere were brighten'd by his noon-tide blaze.
Fair Virtue, cloth'd in all it's
native sweets,
Celestial precepts in her breast inlaid;
And oft, as friendly intercourse invites,
In softest accents from her lips convey'd.
But now she's gone, a sullen sadness reigns!
Absorb'd in grief we still her absence mourn,
Or beg that heaven would smile upon our plains,
And grant a blessing in her swift return.
DAMON and Phillis, 'tother day,
To Hymen's altar hasten'd;
They talk'd of love along the way,
And wish'd the knot well fasten'd.
A church the willing pair perceiv'd,
With portals wide expanded;
The priest a speedy audience crav'd,
And in the bride was handed.
When lo! a tremor seiz'd the fair,
In marriage robes adorned;
She left the youth perplex'd with care,
The rites yet unperformed.
With eager steps he swift pursu'd
The object of his wishes,
And with redoubl'd ardour woo'd
Her to complete his blisses.
The maid, reluctant, turn'd again,
Some glances kind bestowing;
And well resolv'd appear'd the swain,
Though with resentment glowing.
Kind Hymen heav'd his torch, while they
Re-enter'd both together;
But Cupid slily took his way,
And went--they knew not whither.
The bridegroom, next--but what of that,
No bride his absence mourned;
He play'd his charmer tit for tat;
He went but ne'er returned.
Philander kindly fill'd his place;
To Damon Chloe consented.
That night they wed, O woful case!
And ere next morn repented.
WHILE sickness, madam, on your vitals prey'd,
The sympathetic sisters shar'd your pain:
I mark'd them then in sable weeds array'd,
In concert sad assume the plaintive strain.
From Elly's*
Land was heard the harp of wo;
A shepherd, once the blithest of the throng,
Did mirth inspiring, sportive notes forego,
And steep'd in tears the melancholy song.
From Irvine's
verdant banks, a doleful lay
Re-echo'd through the groves and distant dale;
Each vocal throat was fill'd with dire dismay,
And heart-felt sighs proclaim'd th' unwelcome tale.
Quick and unstable are the turns of Fate;
'Twixt well and wo are thin partitions rear'd:
I mark'd the drooping choir with hearts elate,
Exulting o'er the ills so lately fear'd.
When brooding on the verge of deep despair,
A gladd'ning voice did through the groves resound;
Loud acclamations fill'd the ambient air,
And joy and pleasure triumph'd all around.
Health, blooming goddess, re-assum'd her sway,
And did the tender, captive frame release;
All seem'd intent the tidings to convey,
In notes more grateful than the whisp'ring breeze.
Some greet a patroness, all hail a friend,
Whose bosom feels seraphic virtues glow;
Nor further, madam, do your smiles extend;
Vice dreads your frown, and shuns you as a foe.
Long may you live ad'mir'd by all, and lov'd,
The honour of a long illustrious race;
Your worth innate, by Envy's self approv'd,
Which time nor sickness never can efface.
CELIA, fair, beyond description,
Soon became the fav'rite toast;
Charms unrival'd ev'n by fiction,
Did the lovely maiden boast.
Beaux and sages, panting, dying,
Did of love and her complain,
While the nymph, his darts defying,
Triumph'd o'er her thousands slain.
With their woes too rashly sporting,
Still more fatal darts were sought;
Anxious to augment her fortune,
She a lott'ry-ticket bought.
But old Plutus, sullen power,
Can the fair and brave withstand;
He, in the delusive hour,
Shov'd a blank to Celia's hand:
While Brunetta, short of stature,
Limbs distorted, shoulders round,
Gain'd new charms, in spite of Nature,
By good thirty thousand pound.
Celia now, with looks dejected,
Seem'd the erring wheel to blame,
When the god, with brows erected,
Did a moment's audience claim.
Go bright Celia, fair and cruel,
Still of countless charms secure,
Would you heedless add more fuel
To the flames you will not cure?
View the maid to grief inclined,
Though she grasps the golden prize,
O how gladly she'd resign it,
For the conquests of your eyes!
YE maidens attend to my tale,
Of love that sly archer take care;
His darts o'er all ranks do prevail,
The wealthy, the wise, and the fair.
When once his fierce arrow he throws,
Contentment will bid you adieu;
No potion the doctor bestows,
Can then be of service to you.
Experience prompts me to tell,
I felt his tyrannical sway;
The time I remember too well;
It was a long month and a day.
The youth, I'll not mention his name,
Who was the sole cause of my smart,
His deeds were unnotic'd by fame,
His manners unpolish'd by art.
His person could boast of no charm,
His words of no conquering power;
Yet his footsteps did give the alarm,
Which made my heart beat for an hour.
When absent from him I ador'd,
One minute as ages did prove;
Though plenty replenish'd my board,
I fasted and feasted on love.
My couch but augmented my pain;
No sleep ever closed my eyes;
One glance of my rustic young swain
Was what I more highly did prize,
None ever bemoan'd my sad case;
They laugh'd at the ills I endur'd;
But time did my sorrows efface,
And spite of the imp I was cur'd.
I saw my lov'd youth in the shade,
Soft whisp'ring to Susan apart;
Resentment came quick to my aid;
And I banish'd him quite from my heart.
But be not too forward, ye fair,
Nor take too much courage from me,
How many have fall'n in the snare
That got not so easily free?
DAMON.
THE sun with keenness darts his sultry ray;
To some cool shade Philander haste away,
Nigh yon smooth riv'let, where the southern breeze
So softly plays among the bord'ring trees.
Beneath yon spreading elm let's rest a while,
And with our songs the tedious hours beguile:
There will I tune my pipe to Delia's praise,
While ev'ry swain's attentive to my lays.
PHILANDER.
O Damon! how insipid is thy theme?
Philander's sick of thy lov'd Delia's name:
Nor can the fairest nymph enslave my heart;
Man's soul was form'd to act a nobler part.
This gewgaw train can ne'er my thoughts employ;
Such would dispel but can't augment my joy.
I'll sing the beauties of the breathing spring,
The treasures Autumn to my barns will bring.
To notes of transport ever tune my reed,
While on the plains my num'rous flocks I feed.
DAMON.
Let Damon's breast such trivial joys disdain;
What though my flocks o'erspread the wide domain?
What though my barns were with abundance stor'd,
And gen'rous nectar ever grac'd my board?
Nor honour, riches, though their force unite,
In Delia's absence ever can delight.
O Delia! sweeter than the op'ning dawn,
More bright than rays that cheer the dewy lawn.
Her sparkling eye the orient gem outshines,
Or brightest lustre of Golanda's mines:
Her cheeks of roseate hue, her flaxen hair,
In easy curls, waves gently in the air.
Her coral lips ambrosial sweets retain;
She rivals Juno in her air and mien;
She far exceeds what ancient painters drew,
When fancy's flights the Cyprian queen pursue.
Such excellence might grace a prince's arms;
Yet this must yield to her interior charms.
In her fair bosom virtue bears the sway;
There wisdom sheds a pure unmingl'd ray.
Truth, innocence, and modesty combine
T' adorn her mind, where all perfections shine:
Apollo's wit does to the maid belong;
Her voice more charming than the Syren's song.
PHILANDER.
Hold, hold, dear Damon, sure too much is said;
Your Delia's then a most bewitching maid:
As blind men judge of colours, so you trace
The matchless beauties of her charming face,
Recount her virtues, and, with partial eyes,
Admire in her what others would despise.
A sad delirium sure has seiz'd thy brain,
Which makes thee fancy what the poets feign,
Of love, and such like vain fantastic whims,
'Tis wild chimera all, and idle dreams.
DAMON.
And dost thou doubt of such a thing as love?
If once thy breast, like mine, the smart should prove,
More than is painted by the poet's art,
In genuine colours will affect thy heart.
But wherefore now contemn my rural lays?
Thy notes were swell'd once with Lucretia's praise!
Does she thy favours treat with disrespect,
Which makes thee now all other maids neglect!
PHILANDER.
Lucretia still appears in all her charms,
A match most fitting for Philander's arms.
What she possesses yields most solid joy,
Since bags of wealth my pleasures ne'er can cloy,
These beauties catch; they set my heart on fire;
Her farm, her flocks, are all I do admire:
Her darts are powerful, of a yellowish hue,
More fierce than those the fam'd Alcides threw.
Her striking beauty in full bloom appears,
At the dull period of full fifty years:
Then Delia will no admiration claim,
But dear Lucretia ever is the same.
DAMON.
For this you love her; now I truly find,
That none but gilded cords your heart can bind;
Nor wit nor beauty can obtain your vow;
At Mammon's shrine you still devoutly bow.
PHILANDER.
Vain would th' attempts of either be to hold
My am'rous heart, without the force of gold:
Beauty an empty trifle still I deem,
A childish toy, unworthy of esteem.
Its gaudy foliage may attract the eye;
But as the tulip it will fade and die:
The glowing cheek enamour'd fops may prize,
But men of sense can ruby lips despise.
And what is wit? a giddy flutt'ring thing,
Which can no real satisfaction bring.
A thousand ills attend his wretched life,
Whose dear companion is a witty wife:
Still she is right, and ever in the wrong,
Such elocution dwells upon her tongue.
But if assisted by the Muse's skill,
He sure may dread the poison of her quill;
She with keen satire lashes all around,
And with the rest her husband feels the wound.
Should poverty, by sudden threats alarm,
Can wit with all its power now prove a charm?
The fairest flowers Parnassus ere could boast,
Yield to the treasures of the golden coast.
The maid who comes fraught with that precious ore,
Brings virtue, wit, and beauty all in store;
This gives the palid cheek a crimson glow,
The tawny skin the tincture of the snow.
This makes the dwarf complete in ev'ry part:
She wounds most sure who throws the golden dart.
Short of one foot, distorted of one eye,
Struck by its lustre, no defects I spy.
DAMON.
Thus does Philander waste his wits to prove
Nor quit thy mansion till thou breathe thy last:
NOW from before Aurora's rays,
See glist'ning dew drops on the bush,
Alexis join the rural lay,
ALEXIS.
Beneath these ivy mantled trees,
The maid, whose charms I oft have sung,
Of ancient note on Scotia's plain,
Yea still she shines; her radient eyes
But why should I recount them still?
Calista, with thy rapid flight,
Do sweeter scents perfume the grove,
More sprightly youths may feel the smart,
Then haste Calista, save the swain,
Give to the flowers a livelier hue;
The warblers now, with plaintive note,
Since thy retreat, O charming fair!
FLAVIA.
WHILE dusky shades eclipse the solar ray,
ALMEDA.
The cause of this to Flavia I'll reveal:
When Strephon's near, no anxious cares molest,
FLAVIA.
You kindle into rapture at his name;
Of Reason wak'd, by some celestial pow'r,
ALMEDA.
Command the briny waves no more to slow,
And when in softest strains he tunes his lay,
FLAVIA.
Enough is said, Almeda dear, to prove
Yet were he, as you paint him, thus complete,
ALMEDA.
I know his charms the gentlest dame might move,
Diffuse into my heart its soft relief,
FLAVIA.
So may you sing, and sigh your years away,
Or for Alonzo sigh when 'tis too late,
ALMEDA.
The paths you paint I will not tread alone,
FLAVIA.
Why should we sigh? In smiles we will contend,
I'll bliss the fate I oft have sought to shun,
ALMEDA.
Nor warblers can give me delight,
With joy I these banks did survey,
While he by my side did recline,
Still pleas'd with his whispers of love,
How gloomy and dismal the shade,
Those paths I revisit in pain;
In vain have my visitants strove
Society, spoil'd of each charm,
When Sol, from the watery main,
I muse on his charms all the day;
Ye angels that succour the brave,
While through distant climes he may rove,
NOW winter, reluctant, the sway
Fresh verdure adorns the gay plains,
The lark and the linnet unite,
How charming the garden appears?
His team now the hind drives along;
The seed in the furrow he throws,
The lambkins now sport on the mead;
Near Damon appears with his lute,
As Phillis traverses the grove,
They hand in hand trip o'er the plain;
Of each others hearts they are sure;
Few princes partake of such joys,
YOUNG William once the blithest of the swains,
Each nymph him priz'd, and oft they sought, in vain,
Their gentlest arts unable were to move,
A lovely nymph, adorn'd with ev'ry grace,
It must be so; else why this pleasing pain,
He own'd 'twas love, and wish'd to find relief;
JOIN now Apollo the harmonious strain,
And thus it happen'd, on a fatal morn,
The chase now past, their late inspiring toil,
The scene is chang'd, his pleasure now is gone,
Thus did the sad Lothario vent his grief,
Lothario view'd the mansion with delight,
Struck with amaze, they view'd his dismal case,
Ye lovely nymphs, now sing in softest strains
WHERE can the wretched find relief from wo,
What bosom feels not, while with deepest sighs,
It was her own, on fatal purpose bent,
Ah! what is happiness? an airy dream:
Amanda, late the fairest of the throng,
We then the sweets of social life did prove,
What words can paint the horrors of my breast,
No tender guardian mark'd his latest sigh;
Amanda view'd the change with wild surprise;
She's gone, and Nature seems a blank to me;
The banks of Irvine yield me no delight,
The briny tears in copious torrents flow,
AS Celia, who a coquette was,
"Thou silly, stupid, worthless thing,
Thou'rt incorrigible and bold,
A maiden old, kind heaven avert;
Last night when at the ball I danc'd,
Philander saw, their pow'r confest,
But Chloe mark'd, that new made toast,
A whisper then and laugh went round,
An easy passage through the crowd
Now, Morpheus next I did address,
Then unto thee, thou base ingrate,
Though I'm abandon'd on that score,
Its head the looking-glass did bow,
"O madam, deign to hear my tale,
Nor lap-dog, bird, or powder'd beau
Each hour you paid me visits ten,
An artless smile adorn'd your cheek,
The pallid cheek and wrinkl'd brow
The truth, though in unwelcome strain,
Poor Celia now could bear no more,
She would have died, but Claudia came,
LATE on an evening I chanced to roam,
I instantly hasten'd to put on my shield,
I went to the door of an elegant inn;
I quickly stepp'd forward, but struck with amaze,
Their shafts were set right, and their arrows did fly;
Each gesture was killing, and gave me surprise;
Thus finding myself in a pitiful plight;
A little of absence effected the cure,
DIREFUL indeed are thy effects, O love!
Religion, in majestic form array'd,
The wise, subdu'd by thy tyrannic sway,
The Prince, the Peasant, drag an equal chain,
She was of Annon's lovely nymphs the grace,
Of all the sprightly youths that sought to gain
He in soft accents urg'd his ardent flame,
At last her tongue, the purpose of her heart
But Ah! their joys were soon for ever lost,
The injur'd youth was by resentment sway'd;
From ev'ry hope, from all her wishes torn,
The nymphs assembling us'd their utmost art,
At latest hour, when each auspicious light
Her auburne locks the mournful maiden tore,
From Annon's cliff, she view'd the breaking wave;
Ye rigid parents, with attentive ear,
AND was it thine to share the bliss,
Oft has Belinda tri'd her art,
Oft Chloe sung in tender strain,
Ulysses-like, he did defy
Thou little, happy, smiling fair,
If in thy early infant state,
Does baleful Envy rear its crest,
Then gentle charmer pity have,
BY Cupid and Bacchus I'm sadly perplex'd,
Then Bacchus appears, with a cup in his hand,
O, sad the dilemma! pray, what must I do?
O why such a pother? I've found out a way,
IN awful solitude, in direful chains,
Then keenest anguish wrung my tortur'd frame,
For thee, no more, I'll wait th' appointed hour,
O could I now my piercing griefs conceal,
'Tis vain, alas! my bursting heart o'erflows,
TRANSIENT proves our sweetest pleasure,
Oft at morn ourselves we flatter,
But the change by night is galling;
Such the plague of human nature,
I have lost no valu'd charter,
Pond'ring sharpens ev'ry arrow,
TO-DAY old wrinkl'd Time appears;
Our fav'rite hopes, that swiftly glide,
He softly creeps along the way,
On his right hand a lovely dame,
Distant her air, staid, sapient, mild,
With vermil lips, in accents sweet,
"In Virtue's cause exert your pow'rs,
On his left hand, with tardy pace,
Rich Luxury her father deem'd,
With smirking smile, and speeches fair,
This now the lazy warrior finds,
She'll spoil the politician's scheme,
She whisper'd in young Strephon's ear,
Lull'd in her soft, alluring chain,
Poor Chloe's comrade, air and late,
In vain each specious art she tries;
Sloth, of society the pest,
Our helm let Prudence ever steer;
Direct our course to yonder shore,
Unvari'd there the blissful scene,
IS't true? or does some magic spell
The charming BURNS, the Muse's care,
Oft have my thoughts, at midnight hour,
'Tis real now, no vision here
Hark! now he comes, a dire alarm
The doleful tidings to my ears
"No cheering draught, with ills unmix'd,
With beating breast I view'd the bard;
IN royal Anna's golden days,
Swift, Thomson, Addison, an' Young
In hopes to please a learned age;
A ploughman chiel, Rab Burns his name,
But what is more surprising still,
Yet Burns, I'm tauld, can write wi' ease,
But then a rustic country quean
"May she wha writes, of wit get mair,
All this and more, a critic said;
DEAR Nell with your long silence griev'd,
To Loudoun Castle well I got;
The more to decorate the place,
A garden large, and hedges high,
But Nell, in human life you know,
WHILE you, my friend, in beauteous, rural lay,
With joy I view the sweetly, vari'd scene,
The blooming trees that form a sylvan shade,
WHILE Phoebus did our summer arbours cheer,
Forgot by Nell, whose friendship seem'd sincere,
Mild Autumn now resigns to rougher skies,
Go on, dear Nell, the laureate-wreath pursue,
We'll beat the bushes for the rustic Muse,
WHILE Morcham does your much lov'd presence share,
The Muse alone does this indulgence claim,
Would you from Morcham cast your mental eye,
Matilda too, your notice must demand;
As through the hall and kitchen now you pass,
Poor Mary sighs beneath a load of woes,
O BEST of good masters, your mild disposition
At morn when I rise, I go down to the kitchen,
They quickly devour't; not a morsel they leave me,
My friend Jenny Little pretends to respect me,
Present my best wishes unto the good lady,
No more I'll insist, lest your patience be ended;
ERE Phoebus' beams exhal'd the pearly dew,
Belinda sat, bedew'd with briny tears,
"And is the pleasing scene, alas! no more!
Now gloomy visions hover round my bed,
My former days can never more return;
Alas! on life's tempestuous ocean tost,
No more, O death! thy pointed shafts I dread!
Ah! what to me avails the radiant sky,
He was ----but oh! no language can express----
For me a parent's love he did forego,
Keen recollection animates my pain,
Thus spoke Belinda, on the turf reclin'd;
Her flowing robes wav'd in the ambient air;
Array'd in heav'nly smiles she onward came;
"Do not Belinda at thy fate repine,
He's gone to flourish in a fairer soil,
Vain are thy sorrows, vain the sighs of those,
Pure were the virtues center'd in his breast,
But human bliss is of a transient date,
DEAR lovely babe, with hearts elate,
Upon a theme so new, so sweet,
But while with anxious thoughts on thee,
The plodding philosophic eye,
Too hard the task, my humble muse
While fondl'd by a mother kind,
The features sweet, attractive, mild,
And that the virtues he possess'd
May he, on whom her hope relies,
For thee, be calm the rolling flood,
IS it true! does Alonzo from London propose
Does the city prove irksome, insipid the ball,
I ask'd, and in whispers, by Fame I was told,
But ah! he is gone, whose reception so kind,
Let the trifling vain clamours of stoics be mute,
In vain let them guess what Alonzo must know,
A happy marriage destitute of love.
Gold, cursed gold, the bane of ev'ry bliss,
Thy summum bonum
, all thy happiness.
Say, to what purpose do thy words avail?
Beauty and wit to give us joy may fail.
Wit cease to please, and beauty may decay,
Riches make wings and swiftly fly away;
Depriv'd of all, what will Philander say?
But to secure thee of thy darling's charms,
Go to the mines, and lodge within her arms;
Enfold thy mistress in a fond embrace,
For ever banish'd from the shepherd race.
Page 57
Such sordid souls no social joys should taste.
Blest with my Delia on this happy plain,
Where peace and pleasure in perfection reign,
I'll more serenely pass life's hours away,
Than without her, though crown'd with princely sway.
To please my charmer all my care shall be;
Can I be wretched when she smiles on me?
But we must go, our fleecy charge attend.
Farewell, Philander, I am still thy friend.
The maid whose real charms the heart can hold,
Must not be deem'd one whit the worse for gold.
Page [58]
COLIN AND ALEXIS.
Stern darkness with its horror flies;
The mountain tops begin to blaze,
And Phoebus gilds the eastern skies.
Reviving odours cheer the morn;
The warbling blackbird and the thrush,
Make vocal ev'ry blooming thorn.
Give welcome to the op'ning spring.
Why sigh'st thou thus thy hours away?
Come take thy pipe, and softly sing.
Page 59
Allow me, Colin, to complain.
No murm'ring brook, nor whisp'ring breeze
Can in the least divert my pain.
Has left the plain, 'twas what I fear'd,
And o'er her shoulders, careless hung,
A Caledonian plaid appear'd.
And by her grandam often wore,
Its crimson hue was free from stain,
Which made Calista shine the more.
Add lustre to the brightest day;
Each feature strikes with new surprise,
And various beauties still display.
Page 60
'Tis only to increase my pain.
She bids these verdant fields farewell,
And goes to seek a richer swain.
Is vanish'd each delightful gleam.
Can Drife's fair banks give more delight,
Than Eckles' gently winding stream?
Or fairer flow'rs adorn the vale?
Do comelier swains now talk of love,
And cheer thee with their am'rous tale?
And court thee with assiduous care;
But none of all who seek thy heart
Avows a passion more sincere.
Who in thy absence ever sighs;
Add fresher beauties to the plain,
And bid more pleasing prospects rise.
Page 61
Thy presence makes all nature gay.
O lovely maid! when blest with you,
Each season seems the month of May.
Seem to accord with ev'ry sigh;
The shepherds have their songs forgot,
And laid their pipes in silence by.
Day after day my hopes destroy.
O save Alexis from despair,
And crown succeeding scenes with joy.
Page [62]
ALMEDA AND FLAVIA.
And fanning zephyrs 'mong the branches play,
Where varied beauties deck the verdant groves,
Let us recount the story of our loves.
Say, dear Almeda, why this pensive mood,
Which does thy wonted cheerfulness exclude?
It is a youth whose power I can't conceal.
'Tis Strephon, who long since obtain'd my heart,
When artful Cupid gave the killing dart.
Page 63
Nor access find to my enraptur'd breast;
But when he's gone, his absence still I mourn,
And spend my hours in sighs till he return.
Be wise in time, and guard against a flame,
Which cherish'd, hopeless, will your charms efface,
And rob your features of each blooming grace.
The dear Castalia taught my heart to prove
The soft'ning charms and pleasing art of love,
Witness ye rural walks and verdant vales,
How charm'd I've listen'd to his melting tales;
While he, unskill'd in flatt'ry, did impart,
In flowing strains, the dictates of his heart.
Blind was my passion, long it bore the sway,
Suppress'd at last by the enliv'ning ray
Page 64
To my relief, in an auspicious hour,
With open'd eyes I did the charmer view;
Deaf to his accents, from his presence flew.
Observe, my precepts are with prudence fraught,
What heart so stubborn would remain untaught?
Bid southern breezes ever cease to blow;
Say to the flowers, no more your fragrance yield,
Nor Ceres crown with joy the fertile field;
Bid Phoebus cease to gild the op'ning morn,
And Cynthia be of all her beauty shorn:
Would these obedient as thy vassals prove?
No more can I, dear Flavia, cease to love.
A youth possess'd of ev'ry moving art,
Quick access gains to the securest heart.
When he appears, to cheer the drooping plain,
Each nymph enamour'd spends her sighs in vain:
Page 65
Each shepherd, envious, throws his lute away.
In him all radiant virtues are combin'd,
True greatness centers in a humble mind;
Truth, candour, justice, in his gen'rous breast,
Firm fortitude and soft compassion rest.
Nor can the gods on mortals more bestow,
A bright example of their works below.
Young Strephon's charms, no tongue could e'er express;
I may be silent, but can't love him less.
No fault is seen in those we truly love.
The son of Venus, by a magic art,
Deceives the sight, soon as he wounds the heart.
Blind as himself does all his vot'ries make,
Extremely happy in their own mistake.
In all his charms I have young Strephon seen,
Yet never by the youth have wounded been,
Page 66
And fond to lay his garlands at your feet,
Sure young men's minds still subject are to change,
Though from our plains he were not doom'd to range.
A change of scenes may, with distorted brows,
Pour swift contempt on all your former vows.
But let indiff'rence lodge within your breast,
Nor Strephon's absence e'er your mind molest;
The more his charms, the surer he'll succeed
'Mong pow'rful rivals, whom you now may dread.
But he'll admit no rival in his love:
My image still remains within his breast,
True to that hour I first my love confest.
This pleasing hope will soothe my anxious soul,
Nor let stern care its peaceful sway countroul,
Page 67
Dispel my fears and dissipate my grief.
I'll say the youth, for me by heaven design'd,
Is good, as lovely, constant, as he's kind;
So smoothly shall the seasons glide along,
Till Strephon's presence animate my song,
Then shall my pleasure as my love abound,
'Till Hymen's rites with purest joys be crown'd.
With flatt'ring hope, perch'd on the feeble spray
Of Strephon's faith, the efforts rend'ring vain
Of such as would essay your love to gain,
Till his own choice, or some disaster show,
Your promis'd pleasures vanish'd like the snow.
Your charms are fled, no lover then in view,
The paths of discontent you will pursue.
That you despis'd Philander then you'll mourn,
Nor gave Lothario's suit a just return;
Page 68
And with reluctance meet your destin'd fate.
This will your slighted lovers laugh to see
Almeda then a maiden old will be.
While Flavia lives I shall be sure of one.
Then hand in hand we'll smooth the rugged way,
And sigh for sigh shall bear our griefs away.
And laugh at what we have no power to mend.
Should fate deprive me of my darling swain,
Some braver youth perhaps may grace the plain,
And make me happy by the nuptial band,
When cheerfully he gives his heart and hand.
Or if despis'd and unadmir'd I rest,
I'll call my own sad destiny the best.
Page 69
And scorn the fool who would to wedlock run.
See Nature now in contrast with thy grief;
The warbling songsters seem to chant relief;
Their notes are cheerful, nor with sighs depress'd;
In concert join and soothe your cares to rest.
How mournful and pensive their strain;
Nought sweet can appear to my sight,
Since Strephon's forsaken the plain.
With pleasure I've por'd on the stream:
Young Strephon then with me did stray,
And of nought but delight I could dream.
The flowers seem'd to brighten their bloom;
The sun with more lustre did shine,
And fragrance the fields did perfume.
Page 70
Still charm'd with his amorous tale;
Now beauty's forsaken the grove,
And his absence I'll ever bewail.
Where Strephon was wont to appear,
Where oft his addresses he made,
And his accents delighted my ear.
Yet love them without knowing why.
When fortune no favour will deign,
I deem it a pleasure to sigh.
My woes to divert by a smile;
Though I seem'd of their jest to approve,
My heart was with Strephon the while.
Without him no pleasure can give;
In solitude cares will alarm,
In his absence 'tis painful to live.
Page 71
Ascends to illumine the sky,
My thoughts to the loveliest swain,
More swift than the lightning can fly.
The theme seems enchantingly sweet,
Nor ends with bright Phoebus's ray;
In dreams I my wishes repeat.
Prove guardians to the sweet youth;
Still may he with honour behave,
Integrity, wisdom and truth.
His image is fix'd in my view;
Let Strephon be constant in love,
And Almeda will ever be true.
Page [72]
ON
THE SPRING.
Resigns to the genial spring;
Sol sheds an enlivening ray,
And warblers delightfully sing.
So lately o'er-mantl'd with snow;
The rivers, releas'd from their chains,
Do now with soft murmuring flow.
The Cuckow too joins in the lay;
All nature's profuse of delight,
And soft fanning zephyrs now play.
Page 73
Sweet primroses paint the gay vale:
Its head now the daffodil rears,
The sweetest of seasons to hail,
Quite cheerful he ploughs the rude plain.
He hums his love's praise in a song,
Or whistling forgets her disdain.
Indulg'd by bright Phoebus's rays;
Rich Ceres vast increase bestows,
When Autumn her bounty displays.
They skip round the heath-cover'd hill;
Their dams how securely they feed
By the side of yon murm'ring rill?
And wakes the melodious lay;
The songsters, attentive and mute,
Are perch'd on the wav'ring spray.
Page 74
All nature more charming appears:
Leander's soft stories of love,
Still touchingly found in her ears.
No couple more cheerful and gay:
She counts him the lovelier swain;
He calls her the Queen of the May.
The arts of no rival they dread.
From minds so unsulli'd and pure,
No treachery e'er can proceed.
Remov'd from all faction and strife:
Sure riches and honours are toys,
But their's the endearments of life.
Page [75]
WILLIAM AND MARY.
That grac'd the flow'ry bank, or trode the plains;
Not rustic, but from affectation free,
Still courteous, kind, and affable was he.
Of gentlest manners, ever form'd to please;
His mind unruffl'd, ever blest with ease;
His mien engaging, sweet beyond compare;
His breath delicious as the fragrant air;
His nature prone, attractive sweets t' impart,
Good without shew, and lovely without art.
The noble conquest of his heart to gain,
Page 76
His soul serene, yet undisturb'd by love.
Ah! transient happiness! how short thy sway!
How swift thy flight! how sudden thy decay!
Thy absence now the youth, dejected, mourns,
While in his heart love's kindling passion burns.
Fairer than fam'd, of old, Arcadia's race:
An easy shape, and graceful in her air,
The virgins' envy, and the swains' despair.
Her name was Mary, from the banks of Clyde,
She came to taste the summer in its pride.
One fatal eve, this charming youth pass'd by,
And on this blooming damsel cast his eye:
Her charms, resistless, smote his gen'rous heart,
Surpris'd, confounded, then he felt the smart.
Sometime with wonder on the maid he gaz'd,
Then silence broke, and thus, like one amaz'd:
"What do I feel! from whence this magic spell!
Is this that love of which the poets tell?
Page 77
These sweet enchanting hopes the nymph to gain?
This fear, this dread, which does my soul molest?
Such things till now were strangers to my breast."
But warbling songsters can't assuage his grief.
The sweets of Spring no pleasure now can yield,
Nor all the verdure which adorns the field.
To this lost passion all his powers gave way,
And in his heart young Mary bore the sway.
Go then, fond youth, and tell the maid thy care,
Who knows, perhaps she may be kind as fair.
Yes, Mary sure will hear thy plaintive strain;
'Twas her who caus'd, she too must cure thy pain.
Thy
passion urg'd, her
tender love confest,
What maid so happy, or what swain so blest?
Page [78]
LOTHARIO.
O Muses, Graces, all ye gentle train;
Once more conspire to aid my humble lays,
And wake my harp to fam'd Lothario's praise.
A comedy youth, young Cupid's favourite care,
Handsome in shape, and graceful in his air:
In all respects he's form'd the fair to please,
Can sigh, and talk, and laugh, and love with ease.
But O what words, what numbers can express,
What muse can paint Lothario's late distress?
This I'll essay, although the task's severe,
While Delia drops a sympathetic tear.
Page 79
Rous'd with the sound of hound and echoing horn,
This charming youth, on rural sports intent,
With some companions to the field he went:
Each hound he summons, they attend him there,
With eager steps pursue the timid hare.
Pleas'd with their toil, o'er various heights they went,
Nor did the craggy cliffs their speed prevent.
Too soon Lothario gain'd the wish'd for prize,
While horns and hounds re-echo to the skies.
Our jovial sportsman led to rest a while.
To the next inn with hasty steps they pass,
And quaff with social hearts the cheerful glass.
In foaming goblets pleasing draughts went round;
In sparkling liquors ev'ry care was drown'd.
But ah! the fumes affect Lothario's brain;
Once more he tries for pleasure on the plain.
Page 80
Lost and forlorn he wanders all alone.
With weari'd steps, o'er barren heaths he past,
And in Bane's moss, alas! he lands at last.
His trembling hand, which held the lifeless hare,
Now casts it from him as not worth his care.
Three times he drops, three times he lifts his plaid,
Hope and despair by turns his breast invade:
He look'd for help, alas! no help was nigh,
And in the dreary moss he's forc'd to lie.
"Am I to Death become an easy prey,"
With quiv'ring lips methought he thus did say,
"Now farewell hope, my much lov'd friends, adieu;
"My dear companions, charming Delia too,
"O wert thou near to heave a tender sigh,
"Upon thy breast I would contented die:
"With ravish'd eyes I'll view thy charms no more;
"My race is run, life's fleeting vision o'er."
Page 81
Till balmy sleep bestow'd a short relief.
On mossy pillows rests his drooping head,
While azure curtains hang around his bed,
All night expanded on the turf he lay,
Nor op'd his eyes till dawning of the day:
The chilling frost his tender form had seiz'd,
But Phoebus' beams the captive swain releas'd,
Abash'd, confounded, being thus confin'd,
To free himself part of his coat resign'd;
With tardy pace the plains he wander'd o'er,
Some cot or village wish'd to see once more.
Kind fortune now did her assistance lend,
And led him safely to a gen'rous friend.
And at the door he knock'd with all his might.
Impatience, by repeated strokes, confest,
Till they with joy receiv'd the welcome guest,
Who seem'd as one from mortals long estrang'd,
His lost address and comely visage chang'd:
His clothes by nauseous mud bespatter'd o'er;
His hair dishevell'd, and his ruffles tore.
Page 82
Nor were they slow in rend'ring him solace,
Unto the parlour fire he first is led,
From thence into Matilda's downy bed;
Then with assiduous care they kindly soothe
And cheer the lonely, wand'ring, helpless youth.
Each friendly aid conspir'd to ease his pain,
And bring Lothario to himself again.
Lothario's praise, the pride of Scotia's plains;
Ye charming youths, blest with his company,
Pray that Bane Moss he never more may see.
Page 83
AMANDA:
AN ELEGY
ON THE
DEATH OF MRS. ----,
PERSONATING HER HUSBAND.
Or sue for comfort in life's dreary vale?
Here can philosophy no aid bestow,
And reason must in all her efforts fail.
In fault'ring accents, I of Fate complain?
A pale and mangl'd corps Amanda lies;
O that by savage hands she had been slain!
Page 84
To dark oblivion be the deed consign'd;
Nor let officious mem'ry thus torment,
With wild reflection my disorder'd mind.
While stupid mortals fondly hope its stay,
Supinely basking in the transient gleam,
A sudden blast dispels the glimm'ring ray.
Of all our rural nymphs she was the pride:
I saw, I lov'd, nor did I languish long,
With modest blushes she became my bride.
Blest in our lot, nor did we sigh for fame.
A comely boy, the pledge of mutual love,
Enhanc'd our pleasure, and our care did claim.
While briefly I the tragic scene disclose?
Pale death our darling infant did arrest,
One direful night when sunk in soft repose.
Page 85
No cordial did his quiv'ring lips receive;
So have I seen a flow'r of fairest die,
Bud in the morn, and fade before 'twas eve.
Tumult'ous passions did her bosom swell;
Nor could she long the fervid flame disguise;
An awful victim to despair she fell!
No charm appears in all its large domain.
The songsters silent sit upon the tree,
Or pour their notes in melancholy strain.
Nor can bright Phoebus cheer me by his ray:
In restless tossing still I spend the night,
Nor comfort find at the return of day.
Nor can my trembling hand the theme pursue:
The pangs I feel may Damon never know
Amanda's gone, my dearest friend adieu.
Page [86]
CELIA
AND
HER LOOKING GLASS.
O'er fading charms lamented,
She frown'd upon her looking-glass,
And thus her spleen she vented.
Of all discretion empty,
I o'er the window will thee fling,
If any more you tempt me.
Unworthy my attention:
What! must I ever more be told,
The thing I dread to mention?
Page 87
I hate the appellation.
The blood runs chill about my heart,
I'm choak'd with sore vexation.
My air was counted charming;
My eyes gave pain where'er they glanc'd,
Each gesture prov'd alarming.
And with love tales did tease me!
I sigh'd, I frown'd, he was distress'd,
But with my smiles seem'd easy.
By other flirts surrounded,
Poor Celia now her charms had lost,
Which in last cent'ry wounded.
Such scoffing I endured,
Nor did Philander heed my frown,
But by the jest was cured.
Page 88
I found, none did escort me;
No gallant youth my presence su'd,
Nor flatter'd to support me.
For slumbers more delightful;
But in my dreams I found distress,
With apes and spectres frightful.
I su'd for consolation,
Who rudely now foretels my fate
Without alleviation.
Though fools and fops are changed,
Of thy impertinence no more,
Else sure I'll be revenged."
With reverent low submission,
And to its angry mistress now,
Did utter this petition.
Page 89
And let my sorrows move ye;
My plain sincerity can't fail
To shew how much I love you.
Was more by you regarded,
Than I full fifteen years ago,
Though basely now discarded.
My counsel well you trusted;
Without my approbation then
No curls you e'er adjusted.
And grac'd each lovely feature,
Which I observe now, once a-week,
Distorted by ill nature.
Announce your charms declining;
And wont you take the vestal vow
Without so much repining?
Page 90
To you I must discover;
While youth or beauty sways the swain,
You'll never find a lover."
Her stars malignant cursed;
Her looking-glass cast on the floor,
And into tears she bursted.
Preventing all her fears;
He wed the pensive, weeping dame,
And wip'd away her tears.
Page [91]
THE
UNFORTUNATE RAMBLER.
The night it was dark, and the streets they were dirty;
It was to attend the lov'd Celia home,
Engag'd in a company jovial and hearty.
The shield of indiff'rence, perhaps you may know it;
Appriz'd of the danger attending the field,
I judg'd it a piece of high prudence to shew it.
Page 92
I heard who was there, and was fearful to venture:
Hope to embolden me then did begin,
And courage undaunted advis'd me to enter,
By imminent danger I then was surrounded:
Three handsome young damsels upon me did gaze,
And all of a sudden, alas! I was wounded.
I scarce could distinguish from whom they came thickest.
By Cupid's assistance at last I did spy
The person best tim'd in her motions, and quickest.
Page 93
I grop'd for my breast-plate, it from me was taken:
My shield of indiff'rence had left me likewise;
My courage did fail, and my heart it was shaken.
A young maid so handsome I needs must admire:
I gave a deep sigh, and I bid them goodnight;
My only expedient was--to retire.
So happily I of my wounds did recover;
But now at a distance to keep I'll be sure,
And laugh at the fate of a vanquished lover.
Page [94]
LUCINA:
AN ELEGY.
When Reason's voice deserts thy frantic shrine;
Platonic lessons no asylum prove;
His dictates must obsequious yield to thine.
Attempts to soothe the wild, disorder'd breast,
Alas! too often fails the promis'd aid,
Nor can procure one tranquil moment's rest.
Thy cruel and malignant influence feel;
Compell'd to act by thy delusive ray,
As humble vot'ries at thine altars kneel.
Page 95
Nor high, nor low, thy subtle darts can brave.
Lucina felt the agonizing pain,
Then hopeless sunk amid the rapid wave.
Of charms superior to the crowd possess'd:
Her shape was faultless, matchless fair her face,
Her virtues bright, by Envy's self confest.
The envi'd conquest of her virgin heart,
Philander prov'd the dear distinguish'd swain,
Arm'd with the cruel, unrelenting dart.
And when Lucina would his suit deny,
Her beating bosom would assert his claim--
Her modest blush, and more expressive eye.
Unto the youth convey'd, in tender strain:
Then mutual joy each whisper did impart,
So great the transport neither dream'd of pain.
Page 96
Her sire, enrag'd, forbid the nuptial tie,
Because Philander no rich stores could boast:
Charms most attractive to a parent's eye.
To this his softer passion soon gave way:
Too rash, alas! he sought another maid,
And left Lucina to despair a prey.
Depriv'd of what alone could give relief,
The lovely fair, dejected and forlorn,
Some time in heavy sighs did vent her grief.
The sad Lucina's sorrows to beguile:
Vain was th' attempt to ease her bleeding heart,
Or from her eye extort a cheerful smile.
Seem'd hid in chaos--Cynthia's silver beam
Withdrew its lustre on that fatal night,
Nor bless'd the shade nor wanton'd in the stream.
Page 97
Her downy pillow could afford no rest;
She wander'd where the swelling surges roar,
In wild despair she beat her snowy breast!
Philander was her last, her darling theme;
No hand was near the frantic maid to save,
And, Sappho-like, love's victim she became!
Instruction learn from this sad tale of wo:
Ye heedless maids, in time the danger fear,
That wrought Lucina's fatal overthrow.
Page 98
THE
ENVIED KISS.
For which so many sigh in vain?
And did thy lips receive a kiss
From James that honest-hearted swain?
In this her radiant charms did fail;
Oft Sylvia sought to touch his heart,
But could not in the least prevail.
Calista danc'd upon the green;
But James in haste tripp'd o'er the plain,
And seem'd as though he had not seen.
Page 99
The Syren's most enchanting voice;
In vain Matilda's sparkling eye
Did labour hard to fix his choice.
And didst thou then the victor prove?
Is James now caught in Cupid's snare,
And taught by thee to kiss and love?
Thou mak'st such stubborn hearts to yield,
What conquests do thy charms await,
When ripen'd beauties grace the field?
For this one favour now obtain'd?
Sure rage will swell each female breast,
When o'er mankind thy empire's gain'd.
Nor sigh for conquests ever new:
In haste some fond Amyntor save,
And let us hear no more of you.
Page [100]
THE
YOUNG MAN'S RESOLUTION.
Both parties to hear I incline:
The urchin for ever comments on this text,
Beware of the juice of the vine.
Says, "Drink, and you'll drown ev'ry care;
But mind, ere you taste, I'll a promise demand,
That you fly from the lips of the fair."
With Bacchus I never can part:
Ah! dear little God, if neglected by you,
It will rend ev'ry string of my heart.
I'll bind myself fast by an oath,
While life warms my breast, each his pow'r shall display,
And I'll henceforth be loyal to both.
Page [101]
TO A
FROM HIS MISTRESS.
YOUNG MAN
UNDER SENTENCE OF DEATH
FOR
FORGERY.
Where deep despair and sad reflection reigns,
If yet thy breast another's woes can feel,
Woes which no language ever can reveal,
Let the distresses of a hapless maid,
Be to thy silent gloomy cell convey'd.
Life left my heart, I felt my blood run cold,
When the sad tidings of thy fate were told:
Page 102
Distraction seem'd to seize my madd'ning brain.
Depriv'd of thee, who could all pain remove,
My heaven on earth, my happiness, my love;
Depriv'd of hope, whose dear, delusive ray
Did softest scenes of happiness, portray:
Scenes now for ever fled! the poignant dart,
Deep wounds my soul, and tears my bleeding heart.
No more I'll meet thee in the peaceful bower;
No more, enraptur'd, hang upon thy smile,
No more thy presence ev'ry care beguile.
Was it for me? grant support gracious heav'n!
Was it for me the fatal bond was giv'n?
Is it for me stern Justice must arise?
Is it for me he now a victim lies?
Distracting thoughts still crowd upon my mind!
O were my restless soul to heav'n resign'd!
Page 103
Nor add fresh anguish to the wounds you feel!
And death I feel will terminate my woes!
It was for thee alone I wish'd to live;
The world without thee can no pleasure give.
Now law for one rash act thy life demands
Tho' pure till then thy thoughts, unstain'd thy hands:
While villains hourly practis'd in deceit,
At freedom range, nor dread impending fate.
Ah! now I see thee to the scaffold walk,
I hear the gazing crowd unthinking talk.
Farewell, my love! O still on heaven rely,
I can no more, I tremble, faint and die!
Page 104
ON
AN UNLOOKED-FOR
SEPARATION FROM A FRIEND.
Short our moments of delight;
While we grasp the darling treasure,
O how rapid is its flight?
That our comforts wont decay:
Fortune lavish seems to scatter
Fairest flowers along our way.
We lament our doom severe:
Joys, like snows on Ailsa falling,
In a moment disappear.
Page 105
Fond to trifle with our smart,
While we do escape the greater,
Little evils rend our heart.
Nor lament a fickle swain;
But, alas! a friend's departure,
Fills my heart with piercing pain.
Sighing but augments my grief:
Now I mourn, o'erwhelm'd with sorrow,
But next hour may bring relief.
Page [106]
WRITTEN
JANUARY FIRST, 1792.
A smile adorns his brow,
While to our list of fleeting years,
He adds the ninety-two.
Announce his steps too slow,
Lest Disappointment's hazy stride
Should ev'ry bliss o'erthrow.
While we his progress watch:
He turns his back, vain our essay
His bald-pate then to catch.
Page 107
In robes of crimson hue;
Her eyes our admiration claim,
Her form attracts our view;
A figure fine and tall;
By Wisdom own'd, her legal child,
Who did her Prudence call.
Soft as that falling snow,
There words I heard the nymph repeat,
Address'd to all below:
Let her your actions sway;
Employ with speed the passing hours,
Nor trust another day."
Here walks a maid forlorn;
Lank hunger painted on her face,
Her scanty raiment torn:
Page 108
Idle her dam confess'd;
In public by no man esteem'd,
In secret much caress'd.
She does us kindly greet;
But sage Experience cries, "Beware!
She'll prove an arrant cheat."
His sword with rust adorn'd;
Half plann'd as yet his dire designs,
His conquests unperform'd.
The patriot's gen'rous toil;
For Sloth is the impostor's name,
O deign her not a smile.
When Delia seem'd to frown,
That soon she'd change that look severe,
And all his wishes crown.
Page 109
His success did prevent;
Till Delia found an active swain,
And left him to lament.
While pow'rs she had to charm;
Those gone, she feels the sad deceit,
And gives the loud alarm.
Vain the cosmetic aid:
She must be what all ranks despise,
An old forsaken maid.
Of ev'ry bliss the bane,
May we the latent ills detest,
Which form thy direful train.
She'll shield us from the blast;
And ev'ry new, revolving year,
Remind us of our last.
Page 110
Where virtue ever reigns;
Where time and seasons are no more;
Where death is bound in chains.
'Mid seraphims above,
All pure, all placid, and serene,
All harmony and love.
Page [111]
ON A
VISIT TO MR. BURNS.
My wond'ring eyes beguile ?
Is this the place where deigns to dwell
The honour of our isle?
Of all her sons the pride;
This pleasure oft I've sought to share,
But been as oft deni'd.
To him excursions made;
This bliss in dreams was premature,
And with my slumbers fled.
Page 112
Bequeaths a poignant dart;
I'll view the poet ever dear,
Whose lays have charm'd my heart
Re-echoes through his hall!
Pegasus*
kneel'd, his rider's arm
Was broken by a fall.
Were in harsh notes convey'd;
His lovely wife stood drown'd in tears,
While thus I pond'ring said:
Can mortals taste below;
All human fate by heav'n is fix'd,
Alternate joy and wo."
All trembling did him greet:
With sighs bewail'd his fate so hard,
Whose notes were ever sweet.
* The name of the Poet's horse.
Page [113]
GIVEN TO A LADY
WHO ASKED ME TO WRITE
A POEM.
Hard was the task to gain the bays:
Hard was it then the hill to climb;
Some broke a neck, some lost a limb.
The vot'ries for poetic fame,
Got aff decrepit, blind, an' lame:
Except that little fellow Pope,
Few ever then got near its top:
An' Homer's crutches he may thank,
Or down the brae he'd got a clank.
Made Pindus echo to their tongue,
Page 114
But Doctor Johnston, in a rage,
Unto posterity did shew
Their blunders great, their beauties few.
But now he's dead, we weel may ken;
For ilka dunce maun hae a pen,
To write in uncouth rhymes;
An' yet forsooth they please the times.
Pretends to write; an' thinks nae shame
To souse his sonnets on the court;
An' what is strange, they praise him for't.
Even folks, wha're of the highest station,
Ca' him the glory of our nation.
A milkmaid must tak up her quill;
An' she will write, shame fa' the rabble!
That think to please wi' ilka bawble.
They may thank heav'n, auld Sam's asleep:
For could he ance but get a peep,
He, wi' a vengeance wad them sen'
A' headlong to the dunces' den.
Page 115
An' a' denominations please;
Can wi' uncommon glee impart
A usefu' lesson to the heart;
Can ilka latent thought expose,
An' Nature trace whare'er she goes:
Of politics can talk wi' skill,
Nor dare the critics blame his quill.
To write--was e'er the like o't seen?
A milk maid poem-books to print;
Mair fit she wad her dairy tent;
Or labour at her spinning wheel,
An' do her wark baith swift an' weel.
Frae that she may some profit share,
But winna frae her rhyming ware.
Does she, poor silly thing, pretend
The manners of our age to mend?
Mad as we are, we're wise enough
Still to despise sic paultry stuff.
Page 116
An' a' that read an ample share
Of candour ev'ry fault to screen,
That in her dogg'ral scrawls are seen."
I heard and slunk behind the shade:
So much I dread their cruel spite,
My hand still trembles when I write.
Page [117]
EPISTLE
WROTE FROM
TO NELL,
LOUDOUN CASTLE.
Your welcome missive I receiv'd,
And have in haste tane up the pen,
Some incoherent rhyme to sen':
As time for study is but scarce,
Accept extemporary verse.
It is a most delightfu' spot.
The house, tho' built before the flood,
Remains as yet both firm and good:
Page 118
Our parents do the portals grace.
There Adam stands, a comely man,
Eve wi' the apple in her han':
In Eden's yard the fruit was sweet,
But here she has not got it eat.
O'er which an eagle scarce could fly;
Odorif'rous flowers of vari'd hue,
In ilka bord'ring walk we view.
Trees in full bloom, whose fruits excel,
When ripe, the rose's fragrant smell;
The plains a pleasing prospect yield,
And plenty decks the fertile field.
Each beauteous arbour forms a shade,
As if for contemplation made.
The trees in stately rows appear,
And ev'ry thing seems charming here;
Did not the hungry raven's throat
So far outvie the blackbird's note;
Did not the ill forboding owl,
At midnight, from dark caverns howl.
Page 119
Our sweets are ever mix'd with wo.
In vain for happiness we sue,
While as the meteor keeps in view,
With hearts elate, we grasp the prize;
The charm is fled, the phantom dies!
What stock soe'er the misers have,
The heart will ever something crave;
Which, when possest, not soothes the mind,
But leaves an anxious blank behind.
What tho' no bags of gold we've got?
We may be happy in our lot;
And with our little still content,
Our all perhaps will ne'er be spent:
And while we something have in store,
Why should we sigh or pine for more?
Page [120]
NELL'S ANSWER.
The ancient pile, and circling scenes display,
Enthusiastic rapture fires my soul,
And admiration reigns without controul.
Methinks, while I your charming theme pursue,
That Loudoun castle rises to my view.
I see, or is it fancy that portrays?
The prospect stand before my ardent gaze:
Surpris'd I see a new Elysium rise,
In pomp august, before my wond'ring eyes.
The winding vale, and groves of vernal green.
The garden will my fancy long detain,
And there fair fields that wave with yellow grain.
Page 121
And those sweet bow'rs for contemplation made.
Would some propitious pow'r but grant my boon,
Send some kind genii with an air-balloon;
Take me aloft, and safe convey with care,
Straight to the bonny blooming banks of Air;
To Loudoun castle soon I'd bend my way,
And all its beauties joyfully survey.
The gothic structure, and its fair domains,
Most amply would compensate all my pains.
With you, dear Jenny, I would pass some hours,
Amongst its shady walks and fragrant bow'rs.
Of poetry and poets talk by turns,
And pleas'd make comments on the far-fam'd Burns.
Page [122]
ANOTHER
EPISTLE TO NELL.
And joys Autumnal crown'd our circling year;
Even then my thoughts to you excursions made,
And ardently the bypast scenes survey'd;
Where oft we met in Eccles' peaceful bow'rs,
While social pleasure mark'd the passing hours.
From there sweet scenes I found myself remov'd,
I fear'd no more remember'd or belov'd.
Page 123
Such cold neglect, who undisturb'd could bear?
And frightful storms, in wild commotion, rise.
The tempest howls, while dark December reigns,
And scatters desolation o'er the plains.
Just as the sun bursts from the wintry cloud,
Which oft does now his native glory shroud,
Your welcome letter cheers my anxious soul;
For humour, wit, and friendship grace the whole.
Well pleas'd I find you on Parnassus' hill;
The more I read, the more I prize your skill.
The Muses coy, you seem to catch with ease,
And unfatigu'd attain the art to please.
In time perhaps you may receive your due.
Page 124
Where ev'ry dunce her inspiration sues.
'Mongst the vast crowd, let you and I aspire
To share a little of Apollo's fire.
If Fortune prove, like Cupid, ever blind,
We may perhaps some petty favour find;
But if no more we gain by these our lays,
We'll please ourselves with one another's praise.
Page [125]
AN EPISTLE
November
, 1789.
TO A LADY.
And Lydia's health claims your maternal care,
O Madam, deign with candour to peruse
A rustic lay, presented by the Muse.
From Loudoun's plains she now awakes the lyre,
And gladly would to arduous feats aspire.
On the smooth margin of the stream reclin'd,
She fondly hopes to please a taste refin'd.
What tho' she boast of no peculiar charm,
That would the critic of his force disarm?
She humbly deprecates your doom severe,
And fain would wish to find you partial here.
Page 126
Else it were impious such a thought to frame.
And the recesses of our castle spy,
You'd see Honoria, in her elbow chair,
A mind at ease, thoughts unperplex'd with care;
With aspect mild, explore the sacred page,
Guide of her youth, and comfort of her age;
In conduct prudent, and in counsel wise;
Her friendship ev'ry virtuous mind must prize.
Then view the pair, in bonds of Hymen blest,
With little Cupids flutt'ring round their breast.
The bliss that's mutual, all their thoughts employ,
Whose social hearts partake no selfish joy.
To please each other proves their constant aim,
While ev'ry act endears the tender claim.
Page 127
To paint would here require a Raphael's hand:
To trace the radient beauties of her mind,
Shall be a task for nobler pens assign'd.
I'd rather far her little foibles scan,
Though strict inspection finds no more than one.
Such anxious care on others she bestows,
She quite forgets what to herself she owes.
Vouchsafe the charming Celia next a look,
Her mind serene, and in her hand a book:
Eyes, which at will, can pleasure give or pain,
On stupid Humphry Clinker shine in vain.
Pray deign to peep among the lower class:
The cook's at work; but, madam, who can know
Whether her hands or tongue more swiftly go?
They're nimble both; but diff'rent is th' effect;
One merits praise, the other disrespect.
Page 128
Hard and uneasy ev'ry turn she does:
How light soe'er the task, she'll pond'ring say,
"Ah! Is there not a lion in the way?"
Will seems in haste his master's boots to clean,
Old James is driving Turkeys o'er the green,
Our crazy-pated dairy-maid just now
Is scribbling o'er these senseless lines to you.
Hark! there's a call, O pardon what I've penn'd;
I'm sure you're glad my letter's at an end.
Page [129]
FROM
TO HIS
SNIPE,
A FAVOURITE DOG,
MASTER.
May
, 1791.
Perhaps may induce you to read my petition:
Believe me in earnest, though acting the poet,
My break feels the smart, and mine actions do shew it.
Page 130
Where oft I've been treated with kicking and switching.
There's nothing but quiet, no toil nor vexation,
The cookmaid herself seems possess'd of discretion.
The scene gave surprise, and I could not but love it,
Then found 'twas because she had nothing to covet.
From thence to the dining-room I took a range sir,
My heart swells with grief when I think of the change there;
No dishes well dress'd, with their flavour to charm me,
Nor even so much as a fire to warm me.
For bread I ransack ev'ry corner with caution,
Then trip down the stair in a terrible passion.
I go with old James, when the soss is a dealing,
But brutes are voracious and void of all feeling;
Page 131
And then by their growling ill nature they grieve me.
And yet sir at meal-time she often neglects me:
Of late she her breakfast with me would have parted,
But now eats it all, so I'm quite broken hearted.
O haste back to Loudoun, my gentle good master,
Relieve your poor Snipy from ev'ry disaster.
A sight of yourself would afford me much pleasure,
A share of your dinner an excellent treasure,
Whose plate and potatoes to me are ay ready:
When puss and I feasted so kindly together;
But now quite forlorn we condole with each other.
Page 132
I beg by my scrawl, sir, you'll not be offended;
But mind, when you see me ascending Parnassus,
The need that's of dogs there to drive down the Asses.
Page [133
ON THE
JUNE, 1790.
DEATH OF J----. H----. ESQ.
While hoary moisture all the fields o'erspread,
Where ozier cypress, and the drooping yew,
Had form'd a musing melancholy shade.
The echoing grove her deep-fetch'd sighs retain;
Her plaintive note distress'd my list'ning ears,
While in low accents thus she did complain.
Page 134
Corrosive grief now on my vitals prey!
Distress'd, in sighs I spend the heavy hour,
Nor feel of comfort one auspicious ray!
More sadd'ning thoughts my waking hours employ!
Hope's balmy whispers are for ever fled,
And far remov'd is ev'ry gleam of joy!
Each future prospect darkens on my view;
Life's rugged paths seem dreary and forlorn;
No kindly hand does there sweet flow'rets strew.
Become a prey to each high swelling wave,
My ev'ry hope of happiness is lost----
Laid in the silent, solitary grave!
Thy keenest darts I hourly wish to share;
Since my lov'd HENRY'S number'd with the dead,
Nought in this world can now engage my care!
Page 135
The verdant meadow, or the vocal grove?
No kind companion shares the melting joy,
And tunes his lute to melody and love.
What my lov'd HENRY ever was to me:
My joy in health, my support in distress,
My lover, friend, and tender husband he.
With all the pleasures of his native shore:
On me alone did ev'ry care bestow;
He saw me happy, and he wish'd no more.
And all my pleasures past augment my woes;
Yet fond remembrance shall those joys retain,
While vital life within this bosom flows."
No ray of hope her sadd'ning fancy cheer'd:
When from a thicket, as by heav'n design'd,
A nymph celestial in her sight appear'd.
Page 136
A flow'ry wreath her modest temples grac'd;
Her presence kindly smooth'd the brow of care,
And all the horrors of the scene effac'd.
Vain phantoms her superior pow'r confest:
She view'd the sad, dejected, mournful dame,
And thus in soothing accents her address'd.
Nor by thy tears augment the pond'rous load;
The lovely youth must be no longer thine:
He's gone, such is the sov'reign will of GOD.
A plant too noble for this noxious clime:
Where virtue must triumphant ever smile,
He'll share of joys extatic and sublime.
Who did his favour or his friendship share:
He's gone beyond the reach of human woes,
Above the weight of ev'ry worldly care.
Page 137
With unassuming rectitude they sway'd:
His tongue the dictates of his heart express'd,
While his mild manners more than words convey'd!
Nor permanent thy woes, tho' now severe:
Soon shall you meet in a celestial state,
And then no more the pangs of parting fear.
Page [138]
ON THE
NOVEMBER 15, 1790.
BIRTH OF J----. H----. ESQ.'S SON.
We hail thy natal hour:
Here does the Muse impatient wait,
Libations kind to pour.
She now attempts to sing:
No foreign aid she needs invite,
To touch the vocal string.
And ardent look, I gaze,
Can I the valiant hero see,
To animate my lays?
Shall I attempt to scan?
Or in thy infant smiles descry
The politicians plan?
Page 139
Can boast of no such art;
Though hope, on flutt'ring pinions does
All this and more impart.
Thou checks the falling tears,
When thy lov'd father to her mind
In ev'ry charm appears.
Each soft, each winning grace,
She does in thee, her darling child,
With fond remembrance trace.
May in thy bosom glow,
She does indulgent heav'n request,
Who mitigates her wo.
Protect thy lovely form,
While sudden blasts impetuous rise
In life's tempestuous storm.
Page 140
Be still the blust'ring wave:
May'st thou be bless'd with every good
A mother's heart can crave.
ON A
TO SEE J----. H----. ESQ.'S CHILD.
GENTLEMAN'S
PROPOSING TO TRAVEL 300 MILES
A visit to Scotia's bleak plain,
Ere the beams of bright Sol have dispersed our snows,
Or the warblers enliven'd their strain?
Page 141
Nor the theatre claim a delay?
Is it friendship or int'rest that ushers the call,
Which he seems in such haste to obey?
That his heart was by int'rest unmov'd,
That the ties of pure friendship were stronger than gold,
And it's exquisite charms he had prov'd.
Would have fully compensate his toil!
Can the sight of a babe give solace to his mind,
Or reward the fatigue by a smile?
While friendship directeth the scales:
Let them wonder, but never attempt to dispute,
While self o'er their feelings prevails.
Since friendship each action inspires;
His presence will tend to alleviate wo,
That done, it is all he desires.
Page [142]
VERSES
WRITTEN ON A FOREIGNER'S VISITING THE GRAVE
OF A SWISS GENTLEMAN, BURIED AMONG THE
DESCENDENTS OF SIR WILLIAM WAL-
LACE, GUARDIAN OF SCOTLAND IN
THE THIRTEENTH CENTURY.