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Improve the peaceful hour with wine,
Let musick die along the grove; Around the bowl let myrtles twine,
And ev'ry strain be tụn’d to love. Come, Stella, queen of all my heart!
Come, born to fill its vast desires ! Thy looks perpetual joys impart,
Thy voice perpetual love inspires. Whilst all my wish and thine complete,
By turns we languish and we burn, Let sighing gales our sighs repeat,
Our murmurs-murmuring brooks return. Let me when nature calls to rest,
And blushing skies the morn foretel, Sink on the down of Stella's breast,
And bid the waking world farewell.
ALAS! with swift and silent
pace, Impatient time rolls on the year; The seasons change, and nature's face
Now sweetly smiles, now frowns severe, 'Twas Spring, 'twas Summer, all was gay,
Now Autumn bends a cloudy brow; The flowers of Spring are swept away,
And Summer-fruits desert the bough.
And wanton'd on the western breeze,
The fields that wav'd with golden grain,
As russet beaths, are wild and bare; Not moist with dew, but drench'd with rain,
Nor health nor pleasure, wanders there. No more while through the midnight shade,
Beneath the moon's pale orb I stray, Soft pleasing woes my heart invade,
As Progne pours the melting lay. From this capricious clime she soars,
Oh! would some god but wings supply ! To where each morn the Spring restores,
Companion of her flight I'd fly. Vain wish! me fate compels to bear
The downward season's iron reign, Compels to breathe polluted air,
And shiver on a blasted plain. What bliss to life can Autumn yield,
If glooms, and showers, and storms prevail, And Ceres Alies the naked field,
And flowers, and fruits, and Phoebus fail? Oh! what remains, what lingers yet,
To cheer me in the darkening hour! The grape remains ! the friend of wit,
In love, and mirth, of mighty power. Haste--press
the clusters, fill the bowl; Apollo ! shoot thy parting ray: This gives the sunshine of the soul,
This god of health, and verse, and day. Still --still the jocund strain shall flow,
The pulse with vigorous rapture beat; My Stella with new charms shall glow,
And ev'ry bliss in wine shall meet.
No more the morn, with tepid rays,
Unfolds the flower of various hue;
Nor gentle eve distils the dew..
Usurping Darkness shares the day;
And Phæbus holds a doubtful sway,
With sighs we view the hoary hill,
The snow-topt cot, the frozen rill.
No vivid colours paint the plain ;
Through verdant paths, now sought in vain.
Congeald, impetuous showers desce:d ;
Fate leaves me Stella, and a friend.
With light and heat my little sphere;
Light up a constellation here.
Or mirth repeat the jocund tale ;
And o'er the season wine prevail,
Yet time life's dreary winter brings,
When Mirth's gay tale shall please no more ; Nor musick charm—though Stella sings ;
Nor love, nor wiņe, the spring restore. Catch, then, Oh! catch the transient hour,
Improve each moment as it flies; Life's a short summer--man a flower;
He dies--alas! how soon he dies !
THE WINTER'S WALK.
BEHOLD, my fair, where'er we rove,
What dreary prospects round us rise; The naked hill, the leafless grove,
The hoạry ground, the frowning skies ! Nor only through the wasted plain,
Stern Winter! is thy force confess’d; Still wider spreads thy horrid reign,
I feel thy power usurp my breast, Enlivening hope, and fond desire,
Resign the heart to spleen and care;
And rapture saddens to despair,
Unhappy man! behold thy doom;
The slave of sunshine and of gloom, Tir'd with vain joys, and false alarms,
With mental and corporeal strife, Snatch me, iny Stella, to thy arms,
And screen me from the ills of life,
TO MISS *****
On her giving the Author a Gold and Silk Net-Work
Purse of her own Weaving *.
THOUGH gold and silk their charms unite
Spread out by me, the roving coin
TO MISS *****
On her playing upon the Harpsichord in a Room hung
with Flower-Pieces of her own Painting t.
* Printed among Mrs. William's Miscellanies.