Approving Cynthia lends her silver ray,

Thro' trees refracting, trembling to the stream;
That laves with blabbing swell the osier'd bank-
Sly Cupid seldom fails to mix unseen;
Tripping some fair one's heels-occasion fair,
For watchful Hymen to assist the maid ;
Hymen-designing Cupids' close colleague,
His active partner in every plot;

He helps her up, and with persuasive look-
Entreats the gaping swain to lead her straight
To where his altar most inviting stands,

And Love and honor's incense brightly burns-
Where she may hide her blushes and her shame,
And take out legal licence so to fall;

A holy patent, prudently to shew

To him and him alone, her sacred charms!-
These trifling relaxations set aside,

Of some few periods of the circling year,
That bracing, not relaxing, spur him on
With quicken'd step to labour's sunny field,
He to his couch at early hour retires,
And all regardless of his safety, sleeps;
Unless that sleep be shorten'd by a toil,-
Oh! rather drooping toil's delicious cure;
At once dislodging lassitude and pain;
To pay upon his sheeted spouse's lips,
The sum of many a heavy debt incurr'd
By matchless fondness thro' the tedious day;
Mutual endearments! length'ning rest itself,

Making that sweet, which else were only sound-
The kind return in welcome moment made,
Light slumbers soon their filmy drap'ry draw
O'er his still limbs and disengaged mind,
Whose falling folds ensnare the straggling thought,
And lodge it safe beneath Oblivion's seal;
His faithful dog protects the rest he finds,
And guards the slender wealth his cot contains;
And when the dappled dawn his casement greets
The Sylvan choir their cheerful strains renew;
Heralds of day, the tenants of his thatch,
Pour their sweet music on his waking ear,
And from his eyelids charm the less'ning weight.
Blithe as the morn, he rises with the morn,,
Fresh as Aurora in the month of May,
And all unclouded as her rosy face,

When first she peereth o'er the eastern copse;
Jocund he hies him o'er the glist'ning lawn,
Seizes, all nerve, the instruments of toil;
With his stout body, bends his thankful soul;
His grateful strains for health and peace of mind,
O'ertake the mounted larks' exulting note

Far out of sight, and on its way to Heav'n.

The simple MAID, whose heart by love empierc'd, Whose every vein beats wild with soft alarms, Of passion unindulg'd, but passion pure,

Tho' scarcely knowing why her warm heart heaves, Wooes the kind closing of thy dusky robe,

That curtains out the day-when she unseen,
By guardian, sire, or envious maiden aunt;
That bloodless hag, obnoxious to the sight,
Of eager lovers hurrying to be blest,

May meet her true lord in the silent grove,
And listen to the stock-dove's plaintive note,
Or the lorn nightingale's mellifluous song-
But sweeter far than Philomela's moan,
Or the wild warbling of the Sylvan world,
His honey'd voice, whose every accent falls
Upon the ravish'd entrance of her ear

With lighter breath, than whisp'ring ZEPHYR moves
His bower of roses in the vernal shower;

And fresher comes with kisses to her lips
Than the reviving dews of dusky eve

To drooping Nature's frame; while her fond breast
Prepar❜d to cherish, Passion's whisper'd tale,
Declares its secret pleasure with a sigh;
Or shou'd her lover miss the appointed hour,
The moment of his time-(for still the heart,
Sincerely touch'd, goes truer than the clock,
Nay of its reck'ning proud, full oft' presumes
To chide the lagging wheels of Phoebus' car,
And clip escaping Time's too rapid wing :)
A billet, thrown by trusty confidante,
In place assign'd o'er grove or garden wall,
Soon as her well-known steps approach the place
Or surer item reach his list'ning sense,
Explains the cruel chance that intervenes

To keep him from her arms—but never yet
(So often absence ministers to joy,)

Came the short notice to her anxious eye,
But that she learnt his love was still the same,
Firm and unchang'd by accident or time;
Assur'd of this, slow pass the anxious hours,
'Till fair Occasion smiles upon their loves,
And hope's full eye sees consummation near.-
Then, all things 'rang'd to perfect the escape,
Soon as thy heavy hand, advanced Night,
Hath seal'd Suspicion's long resisting eye,
Forth from the balcony or loftier floor
With creeping caution and well smother'd noise,
The casement opens, or the sash flies up,
And lets down-shou'd the lover hail the call
Of well-known accents, many a " tackled stair,"
On which the advent'rous fair one risks her all-
Nor heeds she much, where darts his curious eye,
Shou'd modest Luna lend her trembling light;
Or where his random hand may kindly catch
Her trusting body in the kinder gloom;
So that hard by, a vehicle abides,

A well-brib'd boy whom we postillion call,
Ready to give the rein to pamper'd steeds

That long had torn the ground and champ'd the bit
Impatient to be gone, as knowing well

The errand theft, and the brisk business love-
Scarce are they off, and laughing at the trick,
So neatly plann'd and dext'rously perform'd,

Blending exulting chat with glowing kiss;
Than rous'd the sire, or disappointed aunt,
(For squint Suspicion never long can sleeep,
If nothing chance to interrupt repose)
Alarm'd by hideous howl of neighbour dog
Who had not tasted the appeasing sop;
Or mew of squalling cats, that at this hour
Renew their am'rous visitations too,
With conscious cruelty's misgiving minds,
The large old house in fearful haste explore;
When unclos'd casement instantly confirms
The real noise, and the foreboding dream;
While dangling ropes corroborate escape-
Ropes, down whose yielding bars, in tenfold shade,
Determin'd, tho' impatient love can run,

Or loaded Betty with her bundle slide;
When in the tangling and uncertain cords,
Purpose less pure, and timid feet wou'd hang—
Now comes the alarm, and o'er th' adjacent plains,
Hamlet or parish, villa, country, town,

The turret bell, irregularly rung,

Flings different sounds than when at broad ey'd noon,
In equi-distant strokes, distinct and full,

It calls the hungry labourer to his meal;
Or when the curfew, solemn, loud, and clear,
Bids the tir'd hind untrace the jaded team-
From garret high, awak'd by squeak or squall,
Or from the kitchen low, by clamorous yell,
Croud coachman, cook, miss Nancy and young squire