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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,
She will bave just the life she prefers,

With little to wish to fear,
And ours will be pleasant as here,

Might we view her enjoying it here.



A HERMIT (or if 'chance


That title now too trite and old)
A man, once young, who lived retired
As hermit could have well desired,

His hours of study closed at last,
And finished bis concise repast,
Stoppled his cruse, replaced his book
Within its customary nook,
And, staff in hand, set forth to share
The sober cordial of sweet air,
Like Isaac, with a mind applied
To serious thought at eveving-tide.
Autumpal rains bad made it chill,
And from the trees, that fringed his hill,
Shades slanting at the close of day
Chilled more his else delightful way:
Distant a little mile he spied
A western bank's still sunny side,
And right toward the favoured place
Proceeding with his nimblest pace,
In hope to bask a little yet,
Just reached it when the sun was set.

Your hermit, young and jovial sirs !
Learns something from whate'er occurs.
And hence, he said, my mind computes
The real worth of man's pursuits.
His object chosen, wealth or fame,
Or other sublunary game,
Imagination to his view
Presents it decked with


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,
The glow that fancy gave it fades;
And, earned too late, it wants the grace,
Which first engaged him in the chase.

True, answered an angelic guide,
Attendant at the senior's side
But whether all the time it cost

urge the fruitless chase be lost,
Must be decided by the worth
Of that which called his ardour forth.
Trifles pursued, whate'er the event,
Must cause him shame or discontent;
A vicious object still is worse,
Successful there he wins a curse; -
But he, whom e'en in life's last stage
Endeavours laudable engage,
Is paid, at least in

of mind,
And sense of having well designed;
And if, ere he attain his end,
His sun precipitate descend,
A brighter prize than that he meant
Shall recompense his mere intent.
No virtuous wish can bear a date
Either too early or too late.



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,
That flutter loose on golden wing,

And frolic where they list;
Strangers to liberty, 'tis true,
But that delight they never knew,

And therefore never missed.

But nature works in every breasti
Instinct is never quite soppressed;

And Dick felt some desires,
Which, after many an effort vain,
Instructed him at length to gain

A pass between his wires.

The open windows seemed to invite
The freeman to a farewell flight;

But Tom was still confined ;
And Dick, although his way was clear,
Was much too generous and sincere

To leave bis friend behind.

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