No more beneath thy hospitable shade The shepherd swains their amorous descant fing, Each wanders forth amid the blooming glade To hail the new-blown daughters of the spring. Yet, while yon elms, who now so gaily spread Their leafy honors to the vernal gale, Stood naked to the wintry winds, that thed Their scatter'd glories o'er the wasted vale; Thy limbs alone, of all the dreary 'wood, Could brave the snowy drift, and chilling blast; Against the mingled ftorm uninjur'd stood, And mock'd the howling tempest as it paft. For this, while all the jocund swains around The blooming season praise with youthful glee, I'll teach the nodding coverts to resound A verse that's due to gratitude and thee. I'll rove,where opening flowerstheir sweets combine, Where blossoms fair their varied odours breathe; Then with alliduous hand a garland twine, And on thy branches hang the votive wreath. So, while in honor of the smiling year, Echoes each hollow dale and every grove, Thy venerable shade a lay shall hear, Sacred to friendship firm and constant love. WRITTEN AT MINSTED IN THE NEW FOREST AUGUST 24, 1767. O Rifing Sun on this auspicious day Rising Sun! on this auspicious day With brighter beams gild every hill and grove; Ye feather'd fongsters, breathe a sweeter lay! And fill the echoing woods with joy and love. And, honor'd Minsted, in thy green retreats Let every tree a prouder foliage wear! Let every floweret scatter livelier sweets, And vernal perfumes scent the autumnal year! Now has the Sun one annual circuit paft, Since in thy happy shades these longing arms Receiv'd the choicest blessings man could taste, Maria's virtues, and Maria's charms ! Yet Yet witness every lawn, and every shade! So dear a bliss my bosom could not know, When to my breast I clasp'd the yielding maid, As now her wedded fondness can bestow. Let other youths, by vice or folly mov'd, For each new object change their former flame; And blush to own they love what once they lov’d, Lest virtue should approve, and idiots blame. The scorn of fools I ever shall despise ; For ever pleas'd, when by my constant fide At home my pleasure, and abroad my pride. Where gold, not fondness, guards the nuptial chain, Weak is the parent's will, the lawyer's art: Blaspheming priests those hearts would join in vain, Whom GOD and GOD's vicegerent, Na TURE, part. But, |