The Mufes favourite pleas'd to live,
Paying them back the fame they give.

But oh as greatly I aspire

To tell my love, to speak thy praise, Boafting no more its fprightly fire,

My bosom heaves, my voice decays ;.
With pain I touch the mournful string,.
And pant and languish as I fing.

Faint Nature now demands that breath,
That feebly strives thy worth to fing!
And would be hush'd, and loft in death,
Did not thy care kind succours bring ! :
Thy pitying casks my soul sustain,
And call new life in every vein.

The fober glass I now behold,

Thy health, with fair Francifca's join,
Wishing her cheeks may long unfold-
Such beauties, and be ever thine;
No chance the tender joy remove,
While the can please, and thou canst love.

Thus while by you the British arms
Triumphs and distant fame pursue ;
The yielding Fair refigns her charms,
And gives you leave to conquer too ;.
Her fnowy neck, her breast, her eyes,
And all the nymph becomes your prize.

What

What comely grace, what beauty smiles!
Upon her lips what fweetnefs dwells!
Not Love himself fo oft beguiles,

Nor Venus felf fo much excels.
What different fates our paffions share,
While you enjoy, and I despair!

* Maria's form as I survey,

Her fmiles a thousand wounds impart; Each feature steals my foul away,

my

heart!

Each glance deprives me of
And chafing thence each other Fair,
Leaves her own image only there.

Although my anxious breast despair,
And fighing, hopes no kind return;
Yet, for the lov'd relentless Fair,

By night I wake, by day I burn!
Nor can thy gifts, foft Sleep, fupply,
Or footh my pains, or close my eye.

*Mifs Mary Meers, daughter of the late Principal of Brazen-Note College, Oxon.

CYDER.

W

BOOK I.

'HAT foil the apple loves, what care is due
To orchats, tinielieft when to press the fruits,
Thy gift, Pomona, in Miltonian verse
Adventurous I presume to fing; of yerfe
Nor skill'd, nor ftudious: but my native soil
Invites me, and the theme as yet unfung.

Ye Ariconian knights, and fairest dames,
To whom propitious Heaven these bleffings grants,
Attend my lays, nor hence difdain to learn,
How Nature's gifts may be improv`d by art.
And thou, O Moftyn, whose benevolence,
And candor, oft experienc'd, me vouchsaf'd
To knit in friendship, growing ftill with years,
Accept this pledge of gratitude and love.
May it a lafting monument remain

Of dear respect; that, when this body frail
Is molder'd into duft, and 1 become

As I had never been, late times may know
Jonce was bless'd in fuch a matchlefs friend!”

Whoe'er expects his labouring trees should bend
With fruitage, and a kindly harvest yield,

Be this his firft concern, to find a tract
Impervious to the winds, begirt with hills
That intercept the Hyperborean blafts
Tempeftuous, and cold Eurus' nipping force,
Noxious to feeble buds: but to the weft
Let him free entrance grant, let Zephyrs bland
Adminifter their tepid genial airs;

Nought fear he from the weft, whofe gentle warmth
Difclofes well the earth's all-teeming womb,
Invigorating tender feeds; whofe breath

Nurtures the Orange, and the Citron groves,
Hefperian fruits, and wafts their odors sweet
Wide through the air, and diftant shores perfumes.
Nor only do the hills exclude the winds:

But when the blackening clouds in sprinkling showers,
Diftil, from the high fummits down the rain
Runs trickling; with the fertile moisture cheer'd,
The Orchats fimile; joyous the farmers fee
Their thriving plants, and bless the heavenly dew..
Next let the planter, with difcretion meet,
The force and genius of each foil explore;
To what adapted, what it fhuns averfe :
Without this neceflary care, in vain
He hopes an apple-vintage, and invokes
Pomona's aid in vain. The miry fields,
Rejoicing in rich mold, moft ample fruit
Of beauteous form produce; pleafing to fight,
But to the tongue inelegant and flat..

So Nature has decreed: fo oft we fee
Men paffing fair, in outward lineaments
Elaborate; less, inwardly, exact.

Nor from the fable ground expect fuccefs
Nor from cretaceous, stubborn and jejune;
The Muft, of pallid hue, declares the foil
Devoid of fpirit; wretched he, that quaffs
Such wheyifh liquors; oft with colic pangs,
With
diftrefs'd he'll roar,
pungent colic pangs

And tofs, and turn, and curfe th' unwholfom draught..
But, farmer, look, where full-ear'd sheaves of rye
Grow wavy on the tilth, that foil felect

For apples; thence thy industry fhall gain

Ten-fold reward; thy garners, thence with ftore
Surcharg'd, fhall burft: thy prefs with pureft juice
Shall flow, which, in revolving years, may try
Thy feeble feet, and bind thy faltering tongue.
Such is the Kentchurch, fuch Dantzeyan ground,,
Such thine, O learned Brome, and Capel fuch,
Willifian Burlton, much-lov'd Geers his Marsh,,
And Sutton-acres, drench'd with regal blood
Of Ethelbert, when to th' unhallow'd feaft
Of Mercian Offa he invited came,
To treat of fpoufals: long connubial joys
He promis'd to himself, allur'd by fair.
Elfrida's beauty; but deluded dy`d.
In height of hopes- -oh! hardest fate, to fall
By fhew of friendship, and pretended love!
I nor advise, nor reprchend the choice
Qf. Marcley-hill; the apple no where finds.