We paus'd under many a tree,. And much she was charm'd with a tone Lefs fweet to Maria and me, Who had witnefs'd fo lately her own. My numbers that day she had fung, As only her mufical tongue Could infufe into numbers of mine. The longer I heard, I esteem'd The work of my fancy the more, And ev❜n to myself never seem'd Though the pleasures of London exceed Catharina, did nothing impede, For the clofe-woven arches of limes," On the banks of our river, I know, Are fweeter to her many times Than all that the city can show. So it is, when the mind is endued With a well-judging taste from above, Then, whether embellish'd or rude, 'Tis nature alone that we love. The achievements of art may amuse, But groves, hills, and vallies, diffuse Since then in the rural recefs Catharina alone can rejoice, May it ftill be her lot to poffefs The scene of her fenfible choice! To inhabit a manfion remote From the clatter of ftreet-pacing steeds, And by Philomel's annual note To measure the life that fhe leads. With her book, and her voice, and her lyre, She will have just the life fhe prefers, And ours will be pleasant as hers, THE MORALIZER CORRECTED. A TAL E. A HERMIT (or if 'chance you hold That title now too trite and old) A man, once young, who lived retired As hermit could have well defired, His hours of study closed at last, Stoppled his crufe, replaced his book Within its customary nook, And, staff in hand, fet forth to share Like Ifaac, with a mind applied And from the trees that fringed his hill Distant a little mile he spied A western bank's ftill funny fide, And right toward the favour'd place Proceeding with his nimbleft pace, In hope to bask a little yet, Juft reach'd it when the fun was fet. Your hermit, young and jovial firs! Learns fomething from whate'er occurs— And hence, he faid, my mind computes The real worth of man's pursuits. His object chofen, wealth or fame, Or other fublunary game, Imagination to his view Prefents it deck'd with ev'ry hue His pow'rs of best exertion there, But youth, health, vigour, to expend On fo defirable an end. Ere long, approach life's evening fhades, The glow that fancy gave it fades; And, earn'd too late, it wants the grace Which firft engag'd him in the chase. True, answer'd an angelic guide, Attendant at the fenior's fide But whether all the time it coft To urge the fruitless chafe be loft, ล |