A PASTORAL SONG.

FAREWELL! O, farewell to the day
That, smiling with happiness, flew!
Ye verdures and blushes of May,
Ye songs of the linnet, Adieu!

In tears from the Vale I depart!
In anguish I move from the Fair!
For what are those scenes to the heart
Which FORTUNE has doomed to despair?

Love frowns, and how dark is the hour!
Of RAPTURE, departed the breath!
So gloomy the grove and the bower,
I tread the pale Valley of DEATH!

With envy I wander forlorn,

At the breeze which her beauty hath fanned! And I envy the bird on the thorn,

Who sits watching the crumbs from her hand!

I envy the lark o'er her Cot,

Who calls her from slumber so blest!
Nay! I envy the nightingale's note,
The Syren who sings her to rest!

On her hamlet once more let me dwell!
One look (the last comfort!) be mine!
O, PLEASURE! and DELIA! farewell!
Now, SORROW! I ever am thine!

TO A KISS.

SOFT child of Love! thou balmy bliss!
Inform me, O, delicious Kiss!

Why thou so suddenly art gone?
Lost in the moment thou art won!

Yet go! For wherefore should I sigh?
On DELIA'S lip, with raptured eye,
On DELIA'S blushing lip I see

A thousand full as sweet as thee!

WHO dares talk of hours? Seize the bell of that clock! Seize his hammer, and cut off his hands!

To the bottle, dear bottle! I'll stick like a rock; And obey only PLEASURE'S commands!

Let him strike the short hours, and hint at a bed! Waiter! bring us more wine! What a whim!

་

Say, That TIME, his old master, for Topers was made; And not jolly Topers for him!'

THE FARMER'S SONG.

In a sweet healthy air, on a farm of my own,
Half a mile from a Church, and just two from

a town,

Diversions and business I vary for ease;

But your fine folks at London may do as they please!

By my freehold, 'tis true, I'm entitled to vote; But (because I will never be wrong, if I know 't!) I'll adhere to no one, till each Party agrees! But your fine folks at London may do as they please!

Though sixty and upwards, I never knew pain!
My Goody's as ancient; yet does not complain!
From the flocks of my own, I wear coats of
warm frieze;

But your fine folks at London may do as they please!

I ne'er was at law, in the course of my life; Nor injured a neighbour in daughter, or wife. To the poor have lent money, but never took fees; But your fine folks at London may do as they please!

I ne'er had ambition to visit the Great;
Yet honour my King, and will stand by the State!
By the Church! and dear Freedom, in all its
degrees!

But your fine folks at London may do as they please!

SONGS OF INNOCENCE.

PIPING down the valleys wild,
Piping Songs of pleasant glee,
On a cloud I saw a Child;

And he, laughing, said to me.

'Pipe a Song about a lamb!'

So I piped with merry cheer, 'Piper! pipe that Song again!' So I piped: he wept to hear.

'Drop thy pipe, thy happy pipe!

Sing thy Songs of happy cheer!' So I sang the same again;

While he wept with joy to hear.

Piper! sit thee down, and write In a book, that all may read!' So he vanished from my sight: And I plucked a hollow reed,

And I made a rural pen,

And I stained the water clear; And I wrote my happy Songs, Every child may joy to hear.

How sweet I roamed from field to field,
And tasted all the Summer's pride,
Till I, the Prince of Love beheld;
Who in the sunny beams did glide.

He showed me lilies for my hair,

And blushing roses for my brow;
He led me through his gardens fair,
Where all his golden pleasures grow.

With sweet May dews my wings were wet,
And PHOEBUS fired my vocal rage;

He caught me in his silken net,
And shut me in his golden cage.

He loves to sit and hear me sing,

Then, laughing, sports and plays with me; Then stretches out my golden wing, And mocks my loss of liberty.

THE ECHOING GREEN.

THE sun does arise,

And makes happy the skies;

The merry bells ring

To welcome the Spring;