At an open window sitting, On this day of mirth and glee, 'Cross a flow'ry vista flitting, Many passing forms I see. Ah! lovely prospect, stay awhile! And longer glad my doating eye, With poverty's delighted smile, And lighten'd step, as passing by; With labour's spruce and ruddy train, Deck'd out in all their best array, Who, months of toil and care disdain, Paid by the pleasures of a day. The village girl still let me view, Hast'ning to the neighb'ring fair; Her cap adorn'd with pink or blue, And nicely smooth her glossy hair. With sparkling eye and smiling face, Ting'd o'er with beauty's warmest glow; With timid air, and humble grace, With clear and undepressed brow. Go! lovely girl, and share the day, To thy industrious merit due; There join the dance, or choral lay; Thou blooming, village rose, adieu! And thou, O youth, so blythe and free, Bounding swiftly o'er the plain, Go, taste the joys of liberty, And cheer thy spirit, happy swain! How different to the lonely hour, When slowly following the plough, Self-buoyant joy forgets the pow'r, Which warms thy gladden'd bosom now. If some rural prize desiring, Or ambitious of applause, Loud huzzas thy wishes firing, Thy steady hand the furrow draws; Ne'er a victor fam'd in story, Greater praise and reverence drew, Than thou, attir'd in humble glory, So, guiltless conqueror, adieu! Oh, here a charming group appears! A cottage family, so gay, Whose youthful hopes, uncheck'd by fears, In smiles of thoughtless rapture play. Here, borne in fond, parental arms, The infant's roving eye we view; Boasting a thousand, thousand charms, Endearing innocents, adieu! They go! no more with beating heart, And lively, dancing step to tread; Unwillingly will they depart, To seek again their homely shed. Ah! Eve, I love thy veil of grey, Which will conceal them from my view, For, bending home their weary way, How sad would be our last adieu!

The following was suggested by reading a whimsical description, given by Scarron, of the deformity of his person, contrasted with its former elegance, in the Curiosities of Literature, vol. 2, page 247.

[!-- RULE4 7 --] PHILEMON.

Ye blooming youth, possest of every grace, Which can delight the eye, or please the ear, Who boast a polish'd mind and faultless face, Awhile the councils of Philemon hear! Let not pride lift the thoughtless head too high, Temerity arch o'er the scornful brow, Contemptuous glances arm the sparkling eye, Or the high heart with self-complacence glow! Alas! full soon the eve of life arrives, Though pale Disease's train approach not nigh; Short is the summer of the happiest lives, If no rude storm disturbs the smiling sky. This wretched body, bending to the earth, Once, on the wings of health, alert and gay, Shone forth the foremost in the train of mirth, And cloudless skies announc'd a beauteous day. My parents oft, with fond complacence view'd, The elegance of my external form; And thought my mind with excellence endued, Bright as my genius, as my fancy warm. There was a time, poor as I now appear, I admiration met in every look; And, harsh as now my words may grate your ear, Each tongue was silent when Philemon spoke. Once could this voice make every bosom thrill, As it pour'd forth the light or plaintive lay; And once these fingers, with superior skill, Upon the lute could eloquently play. By partial friendship sooth'd, by flattery fann'd, I learnt with conscious grace the dance to lead, To guide the Phaeton with careless hand, And rule, with flowing rein, the prancing steed. Sick with the glory of a trifler's fame, By folly nurtur'd, I was proud and vain; Till Chastisement in kindest mercy came, Though then her just decrees I dar'd arraign. The form that sought so late the public view, That glow'd with transport, as the world admir'd, Fill'd with false shame, from every eye withdrew, And to the shades of solitude retir'd. Consum'd by fevers, spiritless, forlorn, Blasted by apoplexy's dreadful rage, My bleeding heart by keen remembrance torn, I past my prime in premature old age. I heard my parent's ill-suppressed sighs, And wish'd myself upon the peaceful bier; I saw the anguish of their sleepless eyes, The smile dissembled, and the secret tear. Oft, with a kind of gratifying woe, I recollected every former charm, And, with the spleen of a malicious foe, Delighted still to keep my sorrows warm. "Where is the lustre of the gladsome eye, The airy smile, the animated mien, The rounding lip of liveliest crimson dye, So lately envied, now no longer seen. "I too have gloried in my waving hair, No ringlets now remain to raise my pride; Nor can I now lay the white forehead bare, And push the too luxuriant locks aside." Thus, like a child, I sigh'd for pleasures past, And lost my hours in a delusive dream; But Reason op'd my blinded eyes at last, And clear'd each mist by her refulgent beam. I saw futurity before me spread, A scourge or sceptre offer'd to my view, Alarm'd, from Folly's erring mazes fled, And to my God with humble rev'rence drew. I bow'd, submissive, at the holy shrine, His mercy with warm gratitude confest, Which had reveal'd the spark of life divine, That slumber'd in my earth-enamoured breast. Had I, as friendship and self-love desir'd, Still suck'd delirium at the fane of praise, I might, my conscience lull'd and passions fir'd, Have lost my soul in the bewitching blaze. Dear rising train, let not my words offend! Nor the pure dictates of my love despise; To one, late like yourselves, attention lend, And, taught by his experience, be wise! Ah! banish from your eye the fiend Disdain; Let fair simplicity supply its place; Nor longer let conceit the bosom stain; The child of weakness, follow'd by disgrace. Should time from you each glowing beauty wrest, You will not then those self-reproaches feel, Which every eye awaken'd in my breast, And twenty winters scarce suffic'd to heel. Nor will your friends observe each faded charm, Since still your countenance its smile retains, And the same lov'd companion, kind and warm, With unassuming manners, yet remains. SEPT. 8, 1795.

[!-- RULE4 8 --] ON A FAN.

Now I've painted these flowers, say what can I do,
To render them worthy acceptance from you?
I know of no sybil, whose wonderful art
Could to them superior virtues impart,
Who, of magical influence wonders could tell,
And, who over each blossom could mutter a spell. You only the humbler enchantments can prove,
That arise from esteem, from respect, and from love;
With such I assail you, and pow'rful the charm,
When applied to a heart sympathetic and warm;
To a heart such as that, which, if right I divine,
O C—ll—n—n! dwells in that bosom of thine. NOV. 10, 1795.

[!-- RULE4 9 --] TO SIMPLICITY.

Fair village nymph, ah! may I meet Thy pleasing form where'er I stray! With open air and converse sweet, Still cheer my undiscover'd way! With eyes, that shew the placid mind, And with no feign'd emotions roll; With mien, that sprightly or resign'd, Bespeaks the temper of the soul. With smiles, where not the lips alone Receive a brighter, vermil hue, The cheek does warmer roses own, And the eyes beam, a deeper blue! Though Fashion's minions scorn thy pow'r, And slight thee, 'cause in russet drest, Yet Joy frequents thy peaceful bow'r, And sorrow flies to thee for rest. The echoing laugh, the rapturous tear, The smile of friendship, gay and free, Delight but when they are sincere, And given, lovely nymph, by thee. When my Rosina reads a tale, Though sweet the tuneful accents flow, No studied pathos does prevail To bid the hearer's bosom glow; Her voice to sympathy resign'd, Each different feeling can impart. And, tell me not, we e'er can find A modulator, like the heart! And Mary's locks of glossy brown, That fall in waves, with graceful swell, In ever-varying ringlets thrown, The fairest curls of art excel. Still rob'd in innocence and ease, Daughter of Truth, shall thou prevail, When Affectation cannot please, And all the spells of Fashion fail. NOV. 17, 1795.