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OLACE of life, my fweet companion lyre! On this fair poplar bough I'll hang thee high, While the gay fields all soft delights inspire, And not one cloud deforms the smiling sky.


While whispering gales, that court the leaves and flowers,

Play through thy ftrings, and gently make them found, Luxurious I'll diffolve the flowing hours

In balmy flumbers on the carpet ground.


But fee-what sudden gloom obfcures the air!
What falling fhowers impetuous change the day!
Let's rife, my lyre-Ah Pleasure false as fair!
How faithless are thy charms, how short thy stay!


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E Mufes, that frequent thefe walks and shades,
The feat of calm repose,

Which Howard's happy genius chose;

Where, taught by you, his Lyre he ftrung,
And oft, like Philomel, in dusky glades,
Sweet amorous Voluntaries fung!

O fay, ye kind inspiring powers!
With what melodious ftrain
Will you indulge my pensive vein,
And charm my folitary hours?


Begin, and Echo fhall the fong repeat;
While, fkreen'd from Auguft's feverish heat,

Beneath this spreading elm I lie,

And view the yellow harveft far around,

The neighbouring fields with plenty crown'd, And over head a fair unclouded sky.

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The wood, the park's romantic scene,
The deer, that innocent and gay
On the foft turf's perpetual green
Pass all their lives in love and play,
Are various objects of delight,
That sport with fancy, and invite
Your aid, the pleasure to compleat;
Begin-and Echo fhall the song repeat.


Hark !—the kind inspiring powers
Anfwer from their fecret bowers,
Propitious to my call!

They join their choral voices all,
To charm my folitary hours.
Liften, they cry, thou penfive fwain!
Though much the tuneful fifters love
The fields, the park, the fhady grove:
The fields, and park, and fhady grove,
The tuneful fifters now difdain,

And chufe to footh thee with a sweeter strain ;
Molinda's praises fhall our skill employ,
Molinda, Nature's pride, and every Mufe's joy!
The Muses triumph'd at her birth,

When, firft defcending from her parent skies,
This ftar of beauty fhot to earth;

Love faw the fires that darted from her eyes,
He faw, and finil'd-the winged boy,
Gave early omens of her conquering fame,
And to his mother lifp'd her name,
Molinda-Nature's pride, and every Mufe's joy.

IV. Say,


Say, beauteous Afted! has thy honour'd fhade
Ever receiv'd that lovely maid?

Ye nymphs and sylvan deities, confefs
That shining feftal day of happiness!

For if the lovely maid was here,
April himself, though in fo fair a drefs

He clothe the meads, though his delicious fhowers,
Awake the bloffoms and the breathing flowers,
And new-create the fragrant year;

April himself, or brighter May,
Affifted by the god of day,

Never made your grove so gay,
Or half fo full of charms appear.


Whatever rural feat fhe now doth grace,
And thines a goddess of the plains,
Imperial Love new triumphs there ordains,
Removes with her from place to place,

With her he keeps his court, and where the lives he reigns.

A thousand bright attendants more
Her glorious equipage compofe :

There circling Pleasure ever flows:
Friendship, and Arts, a well-felected store,
Good-humour, Wit, and Mufick's foft delight,
The shorten'd minutes there beguile,

And sparkling Mirth, that never looks so bright, As when it lightens in Molinda's smile.

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VI. Thither,


Thither, ye guardian powers (if such there are,
Deputed from the sky

To watch o'er human-kind with friendly care,)
Thither, ye gentle fpirits, fly!

If goodness like your own can move
Your conftant zeal, your tenderest love,
For ever wait on this accomplish'd fair!
Shield her from every ruder breath of air.
Nor let invading fickness come

To blaft those beauties in their bloom.
May no misguided choice, no hapless doom,
Disturb the heaven of her fair life

With clouds of grief, or fhowers of melting tears;
Let harsh unkindness, and ungenerous ftrife,
Repining difcontent, and boding fears,

With every shape of woe, be driven away
Like ghofts prohibited the day.

Let Peace o'er her his dovelike wings display,
And fmiling joys crown all her blissful years!


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