Witness ye winged daughters of the year,
If e'er a sigh had learnt to heave my breast!
If e'er my cheek was conscious of a tear,

Till Cynthia came and robb'd my soul of rest.

O have you seen, bath'd in the morning dew,
The budding rose its infant bloom display ;
When first its virgin tints unfold to view,

It shrinks, and scarcely trusts the blaze of day.

So soft, so delicate, so sweet she caine,

Youth's damask glow just dawning on her cheek; I gaz'd, I sigh'd, I caught the tender flame,

Felt the fond pang, and droop'd with passion, weak.

Yet not unpitied was my pain the while ;

For oft beside yon sweet-briar in the dale, With many a blush, with many a melting smile, She sat and listen'd to the plaintive tale.

Ah me! I fondly dreamt of pleasures rare,

Nor deem'd so sweet a face with scorn could glow; How could you cruel then pronounce despair, Chill the warm hope, and plant the thorn of woe.

What though no treasures canker in my chest,

Nor crowds of suppliant vassals hail me lord! What though my roof can boast no princely guest, No surfeits lurk beneath my frugal board!

Yet should Content, that shuns the gilded bed,.
With smiling Peace, and Virtue, there forgot,
With rose-lip'd Health,which haunts the straw-built shed,
With cherub Joy, frequent my little cot:

Led by chaste Love, the decent band should come,

O, charmer, woulds't thou deign my roof to share? Nor should the muses scorn our simple dome,

Or knit in mystic dance the Graces fair..

The wood-land nymphs, and gentle fays, at eve
Forth from the dripping cave and mossy dell,
Should round our hearth fantastic measures weave,

And shield from mischief by their guardian spell.

Come then, bright maid, and quit the city throng!
Have rural joys no charms to win the soul?
-She proud, alas! derides my lowly song,
Scorns the fond vow, and spurns the russet stole.

Then, love, begone! thy thriftless empire yield,
In youthful toils I'll lose th' unmanly pain:
With echoing horns I'll rouse the jocund field,
Urge the keen chase, and sweep along the plain.

Or all in some lone moss-grown tow'r sublime,
With midnight lamp I'll watch pale Cynthia round,
Explore the choicest rolls of ancient time,

And heal with wisdom's balm my hapless wound.

Or else, I'll roam-Ah no! that sigh profound
Tells me that sudden love disdains to yield :
Nor flight, nor wisdom's balm, can heal the wound,
Nor pain forsake me in the jocund field.

SONG.

ONANNY! wilt thou go with me,
Nor sigh to leave the flaunting town?
Can silent glens have charms for thee,
The lowly cot, and russet gown?
No longer dress'd in silken sheen,
No longer deck'd with jewels rare,
Say, canst thou quit each courtly scene,
Where thou wert fairest of the fair?

O Nanny! when thou'rt far away,
Wilt thou not cast a wish behind?
Say, canst thou face the parching ray,
Nor shrink before the wintry wind?
O, can that soft and gentle mien,

Extremes of hardships learn to bear?
Nor sad regret each courtly scene,
When thou wert fairest of the fair?

T. P.

O Nanny! canst thou love so true,
Through perils keen with me to go?
Or, when thy swain mishap shall rue,
To share with him the pang of woe?
Say, should disease or pain befal,

Wilt thou assume the nurse's care?
Nor wistful those gay scenes recall,
Where thou wert fairest of the fair?

And when at last thy love shall die,
Wilt thou receive his parting breath?
Wilt thou repress each struggling sigh,

And cheer with smiles the bed of death?
And wilt thou o'er his breathless clay
Strew flow'rs, nor drop the tender tear?
Nor then regret those scenes so gay,
Where thou wert fairest of the fair?

A PARODY

OF THE FOREGOING SONG.

- ! wilt thou gang with me,

Nor sigh to quit fair Southwell town? Can Norton wood have charms for thee, Carlton's rich fields, and fallows brown? No longer clogg'd with stubborn clay, No longer vex'd with pointers wild, Say, canst thou quit the parks and play,

Where thou each female heart beguil❜d?

! when thou'rt far away,

Wilt thou not cast a look behind?
Say, canst thou face a wintry day,
Unlike September's softer wind?
Wilt thou attend to friendship's call,
When sweet delusive pleasures smile?
Nor wistful those past scenes recall,
Where thou wilt long all hearts beguile?

0

-! canst thou walk so stout

Through covers strong, and miry plains? Or, when thy friend shall miss a shot, Upbraid him with no taunting strains? Say, should his faithless flint miss fire, Wilt thou another lend awhile? Nor fretful let one wish transpire

Of scenes where thou wilt still beguile?

And when at last the sport is o'er,
Wilt thou still grace his humble board?
Wilt thou of Southwell talk no more,
Of Barrow's sense, and wit-ador'd?
And wilt thou then, with spirits gay,
Gild the swift moments with a smile?

Nor then regret the parks and play,
Where thou wilt long all hearts beguile?

C. S.