ØDE ON THE SPRING.

L

O! where the rofy-bofom'd hours,
Fair Venus' train appear,

Disclose the long-expecting flowers,
And wake the purple year!

The Attic warbler pours her throat,
Responsive to the cuckow's note,
The untaught harmony of spring :
While, whispering pleafure as they fly,.
Cool zephyrs through the clear blue sky
Their gather'd fragrance fling.

Where'er the oak's thick branches stretch
A broader browner fhade;

Where'er the rude and mofs-grown beech
O'er-canopies the glade*,

Befide fome water's rufhy brink

With me the Muse shall fit, and think

(At eafe reclin❜d in ruftic state)
How vain the ardour of the Crowd,
How low, how little are the Proud,
How indigent the Great!

O'er-canopied with luscious woodbine.

SHAKESP. MIDS. NIGHT'S DREAM.

Still is the toiling hand of Care:

The panting herd's repose:

Yet hark, how through the peopled air

The bufy murmur glows!

The infect youth are on the wing,
Eager to taste the honied fpring,
And float amid the liquid noon
Some lightly o'er the current fkim,
Some fhew their gayly-gilded trim
Quick-glancing to the fun ..

To contemplation's fober eye t
Such is the race of Man:

And they that creep, and they that fly,
Shall end where they began.

Alike the Bufy and the Gay

But futter through life's little day.
In Fortune's varying colours dreft:
Brush'd by the hand of rough Mifchance,
Or chill'd by Age, their airy dance
They leave in dust to reft.

* "Nare per æftatem liquidam"

+

VIRG. GEORG. LIB. IV.

Sporting with quick glance

Shew to the fun their waved coats drop'd with gold.
MILTON'S PARADISE LOST, BOOK VII.

While infects from the threshold preach, &c.

M. GREEN, IN THE GROTTO. DODSLEY'S MISCELLANIES, VOL. V. P. 161.

Methinks

Methinks I hear in accents low
The fportive kind reply:

Poor Moralift! and what art thou?

A folitary fly!

Thy joys no glittering female meets,
No hive haft thou of hoarded sweets,
No painted plumage to display:
On hafty wings thy youth is flown :
Thy fun is fet, thy fpring is gone-
We frolick while 'tis May.

"TWAS on a lofty vafe's fide,

Where China's gayeft art had dy'd

The azure flowers, that blow;
Demureft of the tabby kind,
The penfive Selima reclin'd,

Gaz'd on the lake below.

Her conscious tail her joy declar'd;
The fair round face, the fnowy beard,

The velvet of her paws,

Her coat, that with the tortoife vies,
Her ears of jet, and emerald eyes,
She faw; and purr'd applause.

Still had she gaz'd; but 'midst the tide
Two angel forms were seen to glide,
The Genii of the ftream:

Their fcaly armour's Tyrian hue
Through richest purple to the view
Betray'd a golden gleam.

The

The hapless Nymph with wonder faw:
A whisker firft, and then a claw,
With many an ardent wish,

She stretch'd in vain to reach the prize.
What female heart can gold despise?
What Cat 's averfe to fish?

Prefumptuous Maid! with looks intent
Again she stretch'd, again she bent,
Nor knew the gulph between.
(Malignant Fate fate by, and fmil'd)
The flippery verge her feet beguil'd,
She tumbled headlong in.

Eight times emerging from the flood
She mew'd to every watery god,
Some speedy aid to fend.

No Dolphin came, no Nereid stirr'd;
Nor cruel Tom, nor Sufan heard,
A favourite has no friend!

From hence, ye beauties, undeceiv'd,
Know, one falfe ftep is ne'er retriev'd,
And be with caution bold.

Not all, that tempts your wandering eyes
And heedless hearts, is lawful prize;
Not all that glifters, gold.

ODE