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Ah, Colin! give not her thy vows,
Vows due to me alone;

Nor thou, fond maid! receive his kiss,
Nor think him all thy own.

To-morrow in the church to wed

Impatient both prepare;

But know, fond maid! and know, false man!
That Lucy will be there.

Then bear my corse, my comrades, bear,
This bridegroom blithe to meet,

He in his wedding-trim so gay,

I in my winding-sheet.'

She spoke; she died. Her corse was borne The bridegroom blithe to meet,

He in his wedding-trim so gay,

She in her winding-sheet.

Then what were perjur'd Colin's thoughts?
How were these nuptials kept?

The bridesmen flock'd round Lucy dead,
And all the village wept.

Confusion, shame, remorse, depair,
At once his bosom swell;

The damps of death bedew'd his brow,
He shook, he groan'd, he fell.

From the vain bride, ah! bride no more!
The varying crimson fled,
When stretch'd before her rival's corse
She saw her husband dead.

Then to his Lucy's new-made grave
Convey'd by trembling swains,
One mould with her, beneath one sod,
For ever he remains.

Oft at this grave the constant hind
And plighted maid are seen;

With garlands grey and truelove-knots
They deck the sacred green.

But, swain forsworn whoe'er thou art,
This hallow'd spot forbear;
Remember Colin's dreadful fate,
And fear to meet him there.

O

EPISTLE

To a Lady before Marriage.

H! form'd by Nature and refin'd by art,

With charms to win and sense to fix the heart,
By thousands sought, Clotilda! canst thou free
Thy crowd of captives and descend to me;
Content in shades obscure to waste thy life,
A hidden beauty and a country wife?
O! listen while thy summers are my theme,
Ah! sooth thy partner in his waking dream.
In some small hamlet on the lonely plain
Where Thames through meadows rolls his mazy train;
Or where high Windsor, thick with greens array'd,
Waves his old oaks and spreads his ample shade,
Fancy has figur'd out our calm retreat;
Already round the visionary seat

Our limes begin to shoot, our flowers to spring,
The brooks to murmur, and the birds to sing.
Where dost thou lie, thou thinly-peopled green,
Thou nameless lawn and village yet unseen,
Where sons contented with their native ground
Ne'er travell'd further than ten furlongs round,
And the tann'd peasant and his ruddy bride
Were born together, and together died;
Where early larks best tell the morning light,
And only Philomel disturbs the night?
'Midst gardens here my humble pile shall rise,
With sweets surrounded of ten thousand dies;
All savage where the' embroider'd gardens end,
The haunt of echoes shall my woods ascend;
And oh! if Heav'n the' ambitious thought approve,
A rill shall warble cross the gloomy grove;

A little rill, o'er pebbly beds convey'd,

Gush down the steep and glitter through the glade.
What cheering scents these bordering banks exhale!
How loud that heifer lows from yonder vale!
That thrush how shrill! his note so clear, so high,
He drowns each feather'd minstrel of the sky.
Here let me trace beneath the purpled morn,
The deep-mouth'd beagle and the sprightly horn,
Or lure the trout with well-dissembled flies,
Or fetch the fluttering partridge from the skies.
Nor shall thy hand disdain to crop the vine,
The downy peach or flavour'd nectarine,
Or rob the bee-hive of its golden hoard,

And bear the' unbought luxuriance to thy board.
Sometimes my books by day shall kill the hours,
While from thy needle rise the silken flow'rs,
And thou by turns, to ease my feeble sight,
Resume the volume and deceive the night.
Oh! when I mark thy twinkling eyes opprest,
Soft whispering let me warn my love to rest,
Then watch thee, charm'd, while sleep locks every

sense,

And to sweet Heav'n commend thy innocence !
Thus reign'd our fathers o'er the rural fold,
Wise, hale, and honest, in the days of old;
Till courts arose, where substance pays for show,
And specious joys are bought with real woe.
See Flavia's pendants large, well spread and right;
The ear that wears them hears a fool each night.
Mark how the' embroider'd col'nel sneaks away
To shun the withering dame that made him gay.
That knave to gain a title lost his fame;
That rais'd his credit by a daughter's shame :
This coxcomb's ribband cost him half his land,
And oaks unnumber'd bought that fool a wand.
Fond man, as all his sorrows were too few,
Acquires strange wants that Nature never knew;
By midnight lamps he emulates the day,
And sleeps perverse the cheerful suns away;

From goblets high-embost his wine must glide,
Round his clos'd sight the gorgeous curtain slide.
Fruits ere their time to grace his pomp must rise,
And three untasted courses glut his eyes:
For this are Nature's gentle calls withstood,
The voice of conscience and the bonds of blood;
This wisdom thy reward for every pain,

And this gay glory all thy mighty gain:

Fair phantoms woo'd and scorn'd from age to age,
Since bards began to laugh or priests to rage,
And yet just curse on man's aspiring kind!
Prone to ambition, to example blind.

Our children's children shall our steps pursue,
And the same errors be for ever new.

Meanwhile in hope a guiltless country swain,
My reed with warblings cheers the' imagin'd plain.
Hail humble shades! where truth and silence dwell;
Thou noisy Town and faithless Court! farewell;
Farewell ambition, once my darling flame,
The thirst of lucre and the charm of fame;
In life's by-road, that winds through paths unknown,
My days though number'd shall be all my own:
Here shall they end, (O might they twice begin)
And all be white the Fates intend to spin.

IN

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N gayer hours, when high my fancy ran, The Muse, exulting, thus her lay began. 'Blest be the Bastard's birth! through wondrous

ways

He shines eccentric, like a comet's blaze!
No sickly fruit of faint compliance he!
He! stampt in nature's mint of ecstasy!
He lives to build, not boast a generous race;
No tenth transmitter of a foolish face.
His daring hope, no sire's example bounds;
His firstborn lights, no prejudice confounds;
He, kindling from within, requires no flame :
He glories in a Bastard's glowing name.

'Born to himself, by no possession led,
In freedom foster'd, and by fortune fed,
Nor guides, nor rules, his sovereign choice controul,
His body independent as his soul;

Loos'd to the world's wide range-enjoin'd no aim,
Prescrib'd no duty, and assign'd no name :
Nature's unbounded son, he stands alone,
His heart unbiass'd, and his mind his own.
'O Mother, yet no Mother!-'tis to you
My thanks for such distinguish'd claims are due.
You, unenslav'd to Nature's narrow laws,
Warm championess for freedom's sacred cause,

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