Contented toil, and hofpitable care,

And kind connubial tenderness, are there;
And piety, with wishes placed above,

And feady loyalty, and faithful love.

And thou, fweet Poetry, thou loveliest maid,
Still firft to fly where fenfual joys invade ;
Unfit in thefe degenerate times of shame,

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To catch the heart, or ftrike for honeft fame; 410
Dear charming nymph, neglected and decried,
My fhame in crowds, my folitary pride.
Thou fource of all my blifs, and all my woe,
That found'ft me poor at firft, and keep'ft me fo
Thou guide, by which the nobler arts excel, 415
Thou nurfe of every virtue, fare thee well.
Farewell, and O where'er thy voice be tried,
On Torno's cliffs, or Pambamarca's fide,
Whether where equinoctial fervours glow,
Or winter wraps the polar world in fnow,
Still let thy voice, prevailing over time,
Redress the rigours of the inclement clime;
Aid flighted truth with thy perfuafive ftrain,
Teach erring man to fpurn the rage of gain;
Teach him, that flates of native ftrength poffeft, 425
Tho' very poor, may ftill be very bleft;
That trade's proud empire haftes to swift decay,
As ocean fweeps the laboured mole away;
While felf-dependent power can time defy,
As rocks refift the billows and the sky.

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* TURN,

A BALL A D.

BY THE SAME.

URN, gentle hermit of the dale,

"And guide my lonely way,

"To where yon taper cheers the vale, “With hospitable ray.

"For here forlorn and loft I tread,
"With fainting steps and flow;
"Where wilds, immeafurably spread,
"Seem lengthening as I go."

"Forbear, my fon," the hermit cries; "To tempt the dangerous gloom; "For yonder faithless phantom flies "To lure thee to thy doom.

"Here to the houseless child of want

"My door is open still;

And tho' my portion is but fcant,

"I give it with good will.

The original idea of this elegant poem was suggested by a beautiful old ballad, printed in the " Reliques of ancient

English poetry," volume the fecond.

"Then turn to-night, and freely share "Whate'er my cell bestows;

My rufhy couch, and frugal fare, "My bleffing and repose.

"No flocks that range the valley free
"To flaughter I condemn :
"Taught by that power that pities me,
"I learn to pity them.

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"But from the mountain's graffy side "A guiltless feast I bring;

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"A fcrip with herbs and fruits fupply'd, "And water from the spring.

"Then, pilgrim, turn, thy cares forego;

"All earth-born cares are wrong: "Man wants but little here below, "Nor wants that little long."

Soft as the dew from heav'n descends,

His gentle accents fell:

The modeft ftranger lowly bends,

And follows to the cell.

Far in a wilderness obfcure

The lonely mansion lay;

A refuge to the neighbouring poor,

And ftrangers led aftray.

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No ftores beneath its humble thatch

Requir'd a mafter's care;

But nothing could a charm impart

To footh the stranger's woe;

For grief was heavy at his heart,

And tears began to flow.

His rifing cares the hermit fpy'd,

With anfw'ring care oppreft:

"And whence, unhappy youth," he cry'd,

The forrows of thy breast ?

бо

From better habitations spurn'd, "Reluctant doft thou rove;

"Or grieve for friendship unreturn'd, "Or unregarded love?

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"Alas! the joys that fortune brings

"Are trifling and decay;

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"And thofe who prize the paltry things

"More trifling ftill than they.

"And what is friendship but a name, "A charm that lulls to fleep;

"A fhade that follows wealth or fame,

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"But leaves the wretch to weep?

"And love is ftill an emptier found,

"The modern fair one's jeft,

"On earth unfeen, or only found

"To warm the turtle's neft.

"For fhame, fond youth, thy forrows hufh,

"And spurn the fex," he said: But, while he spoke, a rifing blush His love-lorn gueft betray'd.

Surpriz'd he fees new beauties rife,

Swift mantling to the view;
Like colours o'er the morning skies,
As bright, as tranfient too.

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