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We paused under many a tree,
And much she was charmed with a tone Less sweet to Maria and me,
Who had witnessed so lately her own.
My numbers that day she had sung,
And gave them a grace so divine, As only her musical tongue
Could infuse into numbers of mine. The longer I heard, I esteemed
The work of my fancy the more, And ey'n to myself never seemed
So tuneful a poet before.
Though the pleasures of London exceed
In number the days of the year, Catharina, did nothing impede,
Would feel herself happier here; For the close-woven arches of limes
On the banks of our river, I know, Are sweeter to her
times Than all that the city can show.
So it is when the mind is endued
With a well-judging taste from above, Then, whether embellished or rude,
Tis nature alone that we love. The achievements of art may amuse,
May even our wonder excite, But groves, bills and vallies, diffuse
A lasting, a sacred delight.
Since then in the rural recess
Catharina alone can rejoice, May it still be her lot to possess
The scene of her sensible choice! To inhabit a mansion remote
From the clatter of street-pacing steeds, And by Philomels annual note
To measure the life that she leads.
With her book, and her voice, and her lyre,
To wing all her moments at home, And with scenes that new rapture inspire
As oft as it suits her to roam,
With little to wish to fear,
Might we view her enjoying it here.
THE MORALIZER CORRECTED.
A HERMIT (or if 'chance
His hours of study closed at last,
Your hermit, young and jovial sirs !
hue, That can seduce him not to spare His powers of best exertion there, But youth, bealth, vigour to expend On so desirable an end,
Ere long approach life's evening shades,
True, answered an angelic guide,
urge the fruitless chase be lost,
THE FAITHFUL FRIEND.
The green-house is my summer seat; My shrubs, displac'd from that retreat,
Enjoyed the open air; Two goldfinches, whose sprightly song Had been their mutual solace long,
Lived happy prisoners there.
They sang, as blithe as finches sing,
And frolic where they list;
And therefore never missed.
But nature works in every breasti
And Dick felt some desires,
A pass between his wires.
The open windows seemed to invite
But Tom was still confined ;
To leave bis friend behind.