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Admir'd Salopia! that with venial pride

III. TO MR. DODSLEY. Eyes her bright form in Severn's ambient wave, Cone then, my friend, thy sylvan taste display, Fam'd for her loyal cares in perils try'd,

Come, hear thy Faunus tune his rustic lay;
Her daughters lovely, and her striplings brave:
Ah! midst the rest, may flowers adorn his grave, The care of other strains, and tune thine own.

Ah, rather come, and in these dells disown
Whose art did first these dulcet cates display!
A motive fair to Learning's imps he gave,

Who cheerless o'er her darkling region stray; Till Reason's morn arise, and light them on their iv. ON THE BACK OF A GOTHIC SEAT. way.

SHEPHERD, would'st thou here obtain
Pleasure unalloy'd with pain?

Joy that suits the rural sphere?
EPITAPH.

Gentle shepherd, lend an ear.
Here, here she lies, a budding rose

Learn to relish calm delight, Blasted before its bloom,

Verdant vales and fountains bright; Whose innocence did sweets disclose

Trees that nod on sloping hills, Beyond that flower's perfume.

Caves that echo tinkling rills. To those who for her death are griev'd,

If thou canst no charm disclose This consolation's given;

In the simplest bud that blows; She's from the storms of life reliv'd

Go, forsake thy plain and fold,
To them more bright in Heaven.

Join the crowd, and toil for gold.
Tranquil pleasures never cloy;
Banish each tumultuous joy:

All but love--for love inspires
INSCRIPTIONS

Fonder wishes, warmer fires.
Love and all its joys be thine-
Yet, ere thou the reins resign,

Hear what Reason seems to say:
1. ON A TABLET AGAINST A ROOT-HOUSE. Hear attentive, and obey.
Here, in cool grot and mossy cell,

" Crimson leaves the rose adorn, We rural fays and faeries dwell;

But beneath them lurks a thorn; Though rarely seen by mortal eye,

Fair and flowery is the brake,
When the pale Moon, ascending high,

Yet it hides the vengeful snake.
Darts through yon lines her quivering beams, “ Think not she, whose empty pride
We frisk it near these crystal streame.

Dares the fleecy garb deride,
Her beams, reflected from the wave,

Think not she, who, light and vain, Afford the light our revels crave;

Scorns the sheep, can love the swain. The turf, with daisies broider'd o'er,

Artless deed and simple dress Exceeds, we wot, the Parian floor;

Mark the chosen shepherdess; Nor yet for artful strains we call,

Thoughts by decency control'd, But listen to the water's fall.

Well conceiv'd, and freely told. Would you then taste our tranquil scene,

“ Sense, that shuns each conscious air, Be sure your bosoms be serene.

Wit, that falls ere well aware; Devoid of hate, devoid of strife,

Generous pity, prone to sigh
Devoid of all that poisons life:

If her kid or lambkin die.
And much it 'vails you in their place,
To graft the love of human race.

“ Let not lucre, let not pride,

Draw thee from such charms aside, And tread with awe these favour'd bowers,

Have not those their proper sphere
Nor wound the shrubs, nor bruise the flowers;

Gentler passions triumph here.
So may your path with sweets abound;
So may your couch with rest be crown'd!

“ See, to sweeten thy repose, But harm betide the wayward swain,

The blossom buds, the fouutain flows;
Why dares our ballow'd haunts profane !

Lo! to crown thy healthful board,
All that milk and fruits afford.

“ Seek no more the rest is vain ;
ON AN URN.

Pleasure ending soon in pain:

Anguish lightly gilded o'er :-
INGENIO ET AMICITIAE

Close thy wish, and seek no more."
And on the opposite side,

G. S. POSVIT,
Debitâ spargens lacrymâ favillam

V. ON THE BACK OF A GOTHIC ALCOVI
Vatis amici,

You that bathe in courtly blysse,

Or toyle in Fortune's giddy spheare; " In Halesowen church-yard, on Miss Anne Do not too rashly deem amysse Powell,

Of him that bydes contented here,

II.

GUILIEMI SOMERVILE.

Nor yet disdeigne the russet stoale,

XI. ON A SEAT
Which o'er each carelesse lymbe he flyngs: AT THE BOTTOM OP A LARGE ROOT, ON THE SIDE
Nor yet deryde the beechen bowle,

OF A SLOPE.
In whyche he quaffs the lympid springs. O Let me haunt this peaceful shade ;
Forgive him, if at eve or dawne,

Nor let Ambition e'er invade
Devoide of worldlye cark he stray :

The tenants of this leafy bower, Or all beside some flowerye lawne,

That shun her paths, and slight her power ! He waste his inoffensive daye.

Hither the peaceful Halcyon flies So may he pardonne fraud and strife,

From social meads and open skies; If such in courtlye haunt he see :

Pleas'd by this rill her course to steer, For faults there beene in busye life,

And hide her sapphire plumage here. From whyche these peaceful glennes are free. The trout, bedropt with crimson stains,

Forsakes the river's proud domains ;

Forsakes the Sun's unwelcome gleam,
VI. ON A SEAT, UNDER A SPREADING

To lurk within this humble stream.
BEECH.

And sure I hear the Naïad say,
Hoc erat in votis : modus agri non ita magnus, “ Flow, flow, my stream, this devious way,
Hortus ubi, et tecto vicinus jugis aquæ fons, Though lovely soft thy murmurs are,
Et paulum sylvæ super his foret. Auctius atque Thy waters lovely cool and fair.
Dii melius fecere.

“ Flow, gentle stream, nor let the vain
Thy small unsully'd stores disdain :

Nor let the pensive sage repine,
VII. ON A SEAT.

Whose latent course resembles thine."

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RICHARDI IAGO

Fresh rising from the foamy tide,

XVII. Intended to be written at the Beginning of She every busom warms:

a Collection of Flowers, which Mr. SHENSTONE While half withdrawn she seems to hide,

coloured for Mrs. JAGO. And half reveals, her charms.

ELEGANTISSIMAE PVELLAE Learn hence, ye boastful sons of taste,

DOROTHEAE FANCOVRT
Who plan the rural shade;

QVAE PERDILECTI SVI CONDISCIPVLI
Learn hence to shun the vicious waste
Of pomp, at large display'd.

AMORES MERVIT,

D. D. Let sweet concealment's magic art

GVLIELMVS SHENSTONE ; Your mazy bounds invest;

DEBITAB NYMPHIS OPIFEX CORONAE.
And while the sight unveils a part,

Let fancy paint the rest.
Let coy reserve with cost unite
To grace your wood or field ;

XVIII. Proposed to Mr. GRAVES by Mr. SAENSTONE, No ray obtrusive pall the sight,

as a proper Inscription for himself. In aught you paint, or build. And far be driven the sumptuous glare

QVI, Of gold, from British groves ;

NAIADAS PARITER AC MVSAS And far the meretricious air

EXCOLENDO, Of China's vain alcoves.

SIMUL ET VILLAM EIVS ELEGANTISSIMAX

NOMENQVE SVVM 'Tis bashful beauty ever twines

ILLVSTRAVIT. The most coercive chain;

“ (FORTVNATVS ET ILLE DEOS QVI NOVIT AGRESTES) 'Tis she, that sovereign rule declines,

PANAQVE, SYLVANVMQVE, SENEM, NYMPHASQVE SOWho best deserves to reign."

RORES.”

VIRG.

AMICITIAE G. S.

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T 19 Nature here bids pleasing scenes arise,
And wisely gives them Cynthio to revise :
To vejl each blemish ; brighten every grace;
Yet still preserve the lovely parent's face.
How well the Bard obeys, each valley tells ;
These lucid streams, gay meads, and lonely cells;
Where modest Art in silence lurks conceald,
While Nature shines so gracefully reveal’d,
That she triumphant claims the total plan,
And, with fresh pride, adopts the work of man.

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See! the tall youth, by partial Fate's decree,
To asuence born, and from restraint set free,
Eager he seeks the scenes of gay resort,
The mall, the rout, the play-house, and the court:
Soon for some varnish'd nymph of dubious fame,
Or powder'd peeress, counterfeits a llame.
Behold him now, enraptur'd, swear and sigh,
Dress, dance, drink, revel, all be knows not why;
Till, by kind Fate restor'd to country air,
He marks the roses of some rural fair :
Smit with her unaffected native charms,
A real passion soon his bosom warms :
And, wak'd from idle dreams, he takes a wife,
And tastes the genuine bappiness of life.

Thus, in the vacant season of the year,
Some Templar gay begins his wild career.
From seat to seat o'er pompous scenes he flies,
Views all with equal wonder and surprise ;
Till, sick of domes, arcades, and temples grown,
He hies fatigued, not satisfied, to town.
Yet if some kinder Genius point his way
To where the Muses o'er thy Leasowes stray,
Charm'd with the sylvan beauties of the place,
Where Art assumes the sweets of Nature's face,
Each hill, each dale, each consecrated grove,
Each lake, and falling stream, his rapture move.

VERSES RECEIVED BY THE POST, FROM A LADY UNKNOWN,

1761.
Health to the bard in Leasowes' happy groves;
Health, and sweet converse with the Muse he loves!
The humblest votary of the tuneful Nine,
With trembling hand, attempts her artless line,
In numbers such as untaught Nature brings;
As flow, spontaneous, like thy native springs.

But ah! what airy forms around me rise ?
The russet mountain glows with richer dyes ;
In circling dance a pigmy crowd appear,
And bark! an infant voice salutes my ear:

Mortal, thy aim we know, thy task approve;
His merit honour, and his genius love :
For us wbat verdant carpets has he spread,
Where nightly we our mystic mazes tread!
For us, each shady grove and rural seat,
His falling streams and flowing numbers sweet !
Didst thou not mark, amid the winding dell,
What tuneful verse adorns the mossy cell?
There every Fairy of our sprightly train
Resort, to bless the woodland and the plain.
There, as we move, unbidden beauties glow,
The green turf brightens, and the violets blow;
And there with thoughts sublimewe bless the swain,
Nor we inspire, nor he attends, in vain.

“ Go, simple rhymer! bear this message true; The truths that Fairies dictate none shall rue. Say to the Bard in Leasowes' happy grove, Whom Dryads honour, and whom Fairies love

Content thyself no longer that thy lays, By others fosterd, lend to others praise ; No longer to the favouring world refuse The welcome treasures of thy polish'd Muse; The scatter'd blooms, that boast thy valued name, Collect, unite, and give the wreath to fame: Ne'er can thy virtues, or thy verse, engage More solid praise tban in this happiest age, When sense and merit's cherish'd by the Throne, And each illustrious privilege their own. Though modest be thy gentle Muse, I ween, Oh, lead her blushing from the daisied green, A fit attendant on Britannia's Queen.”'

BY

Ye sportive elves, as faithful I relate

Of Paradise? What Najad's guiding hand Th'intrusted mandates of your fairy state, Leads, through the broider'd vale, the lucid rills, Visit these wilds again with nightly care ;

That, murmuring as they flow, bear melody So shall my kine, of all the herd, repair

Along their banks; and through the vocal shades In healthful plight to fill the copious pail !

Improve the music of the woodland choir ? My sheep lie pent with safety in the dale :

What pensive Dryad rais'd yon solemn grove, My poultry fear no robber in the roost,

Where minds contemplative, at close-of day My linen more than common whiteness boast : Retiring, muse o'er Nature's various works, Let order, peace, and housewifry be mine ;

Her wonders venerate, or her sweets enjoy Shenstone, be fancy, fame, and fortune thine. What room for doubt? Some rural deity,

COTSWOULDIA.

Presiding, scatters o'er th’ unequal lawns,
In beauteous wildness, yon fair-spreading trees;

And mingling woods and waters, hills and dales, ON THE DISCOVERY OF AN ECHO AT

And herds and bleating flocks, domestic fowl,

And those that swim the lake, sees rising round EDGBASTON.

More pleasing landscapes than in Tempe's vale

Penéus water'd. Yes, some sylvan god HA! what art thou, whose voice unknown

Spreads wide the varied prospect; waves the woods, Pours on these plains its tender moan?

Lifts the proud hills, and clears the shining lakes; Art thou the nymph in Shenstone's dale,

While, from the congregated waters pour'd, Who dost with plaintive note bewail

The barsting torrent tumbles down the steep That he forsakes th’ Aonian maids,

In foaming fury; fierce, irregular, To court inconstant rills and shades ?

Wild, interrupted, cross'd with rocks and roots Mourn not, sweet nymphs—alas, in vain

And interwoven trees; till, soon absorb'd, Do they invite, and thou complain

An opening cavern all its rage entombs.

So vanish human glories ! Such the pomp
Yet, while he woo'd the gentle throng,
With liquid lay and melting song,

Of swelling warriors, of ambitious kings,

Who fret and strut their hour upon the stage The listening herd around himn stray'd, In wanton frisk the lambkins play'd,

Of busy life, and then are heard no more! And every Naïad ceas'd to lave

“ Yes, 't is enchantment all-And:ee, the spells, Her azure limbs amid the wave.

The powerful incantations, magic rerse, The Graces dane'u; the rosy band

Inscrib'd on every tree, alcore, or urnOf Smiles and Loves went band in hand;

Spells !—Incantations !-ah, my tuneful friend! And purple Pleasures strew'd the way

Thine are the numbers! thine the wondrons work! With sweetest flowers : and every ray.

Yes, great magician ! now I read thee right, Of each fond Muse, with rapture fir'd,

And lightly weigh all sorcery but thine. To glowing thought his breast inspird.

No Naiad's leading step conducts the rill; The hills rejoic'd, the valleys rung,

Nor sylvan god presiding skirts the lawn All Nature smil'd, while Shenstone sung.

In beauteous wildness, with fair-spreading trees; So charm'd his lay; but now no more

Nor magic wand has circumscrib'd the scene. Ah! why dost thou repeat—" no more ?"

'Tis thine own taste, thy genius that presides, E'en now he hies to deck the grove,

Nor needs there other deity, nor needs To deck the scene the Muses love;

More potent spells than they.”—No more the swain, And soon again will own their sway,

For lo, his Damon, o'er the tufted lawn
And thou resound the peerless lay,

Advancing, leads him to the social dome.
And with immortal numbers fill
Each rocky cave and vocal hill.

TO MR. R. D. ON THE DEATH OF

MR. SHENSTONE. VERSES BY MR. DODSLEY, ON HIS FIRST ARRIVAL AT THE LEASOWES, 1754. “ Hlow shall I fix my wandering eye? Where find Thee, shepherd, thee, the woods and desert caves, The source of this enchantment? Dwells it in With wild thyme and the gadding vine o'ergrown, The woods? or waves there rot a magic wand

And all their echoes mourn.

Milt. O'er the translucent waters ? Sure, unseen, Some favouring power directs the happy lines That sketch these beauties; swells the rising hills, 'Tis past, my friend; the transient scene is clos'd! And scoops the dales, to Nature's finest forms, The fairy pile, th'enchanted vision rais'd Vague, undetermin'd, infinite; untaught

By Damon's magic skill, is lost in air! By line or compass, yet supremely fair.”

What though the lawns and pendant woods reSo spake Philenor, as with raptur'd gaze

main, He travers'd Damon's farm. From distant plains Each tinkling stream, each rushing cataract, H esought his friend's abode: nor had the fame With lapse incessant echoes through the dale? Of that new-form'd Arcadia reach'd his ear. Yet what avails the lifeless landscape now?

And thus the swain, as o'er each hill and dale, The charm's dissolv'd; the genius of the wood, Through lawn or thicket he pursued his way: Alas! is flown—for Damon is no more. • What is it gilds the verdure of these meads As when from fair Lyceum crown'd with pines, With hues more bright than fancy paints the flowers Or Mænalus with leaves autumnal strew'd,

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