And now farewel, O early in renown,
Illuftrious, young, in labours for the crown,
Juft, and benign, and vigilant, in power,
And elegant to grace the vacant hour,
Relaxing fweet! Nor are we born to wear
The brow still bent, and give up life to care:
And thou, mild glory, beaming round his fame,
Francifca, thou, his firft, his latest flame ;
Parent of bloom! In pleasing arts refin'd!
Farewel thy hand, and voice, in mufic join'd;
Thy courtesy, as foothing as thy song,
And smiles foft-gleaming on the courtly throng:
And thou, Chariffa, haftening to thy prime,
And Carolina, chiding tardy Time,
Who every tender wish of mine divide,
For whom I ftrung the lyre, once laid afide,
Receive, and bear in mind, my fond farewell,
Thrive on in life! and, thriving on, excell!
Accept this token, Carteret, of good-will,
The voice of nature, undebas'd by skill,
These parting numbers, cadenc'd by my grief,
For thy lov'd fake, and for my own relief,
If aught, alas, thy abfence may relieve,
Now I am left, perhaps, through life to grieve:
Yet would I hope, yet hope I know not why,
(But hopes and wishes in one balance lie)
Thou may'ft revifit, with thy wonted smiles,
Tërna, ifland fet around with ifles :
May the fame heart, that bids thee now adieu,
Salute thy fails, and hail thee into view!
WHY we love, and why we hate,
Is not granted us to know:
Random chance, or wilful fate,
Guides the fhaft from Cupid's bow,
LITTLE Syren of the stage,
Charmer of an idle age,
Empty warbler, breathing lyre,
Wanton gale of fond defire,
Bane of every manly art,
Sweet enfeebler of the heart!
WEEPING o'er thy facred urn,
Ever fhall the Mufes mourn;
Sadly fhall their numbers flow,
Ever elegant in woe.
Thousands, nobly born, fhall die,
Thousands in oblivion lie,
Names, which leave no trace behind,
Like the clouds before the wind,
When the dusky shadows pafs,
Lightly fleeting o'er the grass.
But, O Halifax, thy name
Shall through ages rife in fame:
Sweet remembrance shalt thou find,
Sweet in every noble mind.
CARTERET.
BLOOM of beauty, early flower
Of the blisful bridal bower,
Thou, thy parents pride and care,
Faireft offspring of the fair,
Lovely pledge of mutual love,
Angel feeming from above,
Was it not thou day by day
Doft thy very sex betray,
Female more and more appear,
Female, more than angel dear,
How to speak thy face and mien,
(Soon too dangerous to be feen)
How fhall I, or shall the Muse,
Language of resemblance chufe?
Language like thy mien and face,
Full of sweetness, full of grace!
By the next returning spring,
When again the linnets fing,
When again the lambkins play,
Pretty sportlings full of May,
When the meadows next are feen,
Sweet enamel! white and green,
And the year in fresh attire,
Welcomes every gay defire,
Blooming on shalt thou appear
More inviting than the year,
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