Far other scenes their minds employ, Their ancient seats let others fly, To roll beneath a foreign sky; Or loitering in their villas stay, 'Till useless summers waste away, While, hopeless of their lord's return, The poor exhausted tenants mourn; From Lowther she disdains to run To bask beneath a southern sun, Opens the hospitable door, Welcomes the friend, relieves the poor; Bids tenants share the lib'ral board, And early know and love their Lord, Whose courteous deeds to all extend, And make each happy guest a friend, To smiling Earth the grateful Main Thus gives her gather'd streams again, O may the virtues which adorn With modest beams his rising morn, Unclouded grow to perfect day! May he with bounty's brightest ray The natives cheer, enrich the soil, With arts improve, reward their toil, Glad with kind warmth, our northern sky, And generous Lonsdale's loss supply. EPISTLE VII. (WRITTEN IN THE CLOSE OF WINTER) TO A FRIEND, JUST LEAVING A FAVORITE RETIREMENT, Previous to settling abroad. BY THE REV. SAMUEL HENLEY, ERE yet your footsteps quit the place The conscious scenes your own no more. When vernal clouds their influence shower, Expand the bud, and rear the flower, Who to yon' leafing grove will come Where the rath primrose loves to bloom, And fondly seek with heedful tread The forward floret's downy head? Or, when the violet leaves the ground, Scent the pure perfume breathing round? Epist. VII. EPISTLES DESCRIPTIVE, &c. The garden tribes that gladlier grew Who first will spy the swallow's wing, O'er the broad down who then delight, Most clamorous when least danger's nigh? Who listless now will sauntering stay 61 Who, drawn by Nature's varying face, O'er heaven the gathering tempest trace ? Or, in the rear of sunny rain, Admire the wide bow's gorgeous train ; Who now ascend the upland lawn When Morning tines the kindling dawn, To view the goss'mer pearl'd with dew That tremulous shoots each glistering hue ? Or mark the clouds in liveries gay Surround the radiant orb of day? Who, when his amplest course is run, Wistful pursue the sinking sun ? To common eyes he vainly shines, Unheeded rises, or declines ! In vain, with saffron light o'erspread, And coppice, clear to eye remote; |