The fields to all their wonted tribute bear,
To warm their little loves the birds complain;
I fruitless mourn to him that cannot hear,
And weep the more, because I weep in vain.
Thomas Gray.
CL
TO THE HONOURABLE MISS CARTERET.
Bloom of beauty, early flower
Of the blissful bridal bower,
Thou, thy parents’ pride and care,
Fairest offspring of the fair,