But fince of late ELIZABETH,
And later, JAMES came in,
They never danc'd on any heath,
As when the time had been.
By which we note the FAIRIES
"Were of the old profeffion:
Their fongs were Ave-Maries,'
Their dances were proceffion.
But now, alas! they all are dead,
Or gone beyond the feas,
Or farther for religion fled,
Or else they take their eafe.
A tell-tale in their company
They never could endure;
And whofo kept not fecretly
Their mirth, was punish'd fure:
It was a juft and Christian deed
To pinch fuch black and blue:
O, how the commonwealth doth need
Such juftices as you!
Now they have left our quarters;
A regifter they have,
Who can preferve their charters;
A man both wife and grave.
An hundred of their merry pranks
By one that I could name
Are kept in ftore; can twenty thanks
To WILLIAM for the fame.
TO WILLIAM CHURNE, of Staffordshire,
Give laud and praifes due,
Who ev'ry meal can mend your cheer
With tales both old and new:
TO WILLIAM all give audience,
And pray ye for his noddle;
For all the fairies evidence
Were loft, if it were addle,
THE peaceful ev'ning breathes her balmy store,
The playful fchool-boys wanton o'er the
green;
Where fpreading poplars fhade the cottage door,
The villagers in ruftic joy convene.
Amid the fecret windings of the wood,
With folemn MEDITATION let me stray:
This is the hour, when to the wife and good,
The heav'nly maid repays the toils of day.
The river murmurs, and the breathing gale
Whispers the gently-waving boughs among;
The ftar of ev'ning glimmers o'er the dale,
And leads the filent hoft of heav'n along.
How bright, emerging o'er yon broom-clad height,
The filver emprefs of the night appears!
Yon limpid pool reflects a fiream of light,
And faintly in its breaft the woodland bears.
The waters tumbling o'er their rocky bed,
Solemn and conftant, from yon dell refound;
The lonely hearths blaze o'er the diftant glade;
The bat, low-wheeling, skims the dufky ground.
Auguft and hoary, o'er the floping dale,
The Gothic abbey rears its fculptur'd tow'rs;
Dull through the roofs refounds the whiftling gale;
Dark SOLITUDE among the pillars low'rs.
Where yon old trees bend o'er a place of graves,
And, folemn, fhade a chapel's fad remains;
Where yon fkaith'd poplar thro' the window waves,
And, twining round, the hoary arch fuftains:
There oft at dawn, as one forgot behind,
Who longs to follow, yet unknowing where,
Some hoary fhepherd, o'er his staff reclin'd,
Pores on the graves, and fighs a broken pray'r.
High o'er the pines, that with their dark'ning fhade
Surround yon craggy bank, the castle rears
Its crumbling turrets: ftill its tow'ry head
A warlike mien, a fullen grandeur wears.
So, 'midft the fnow of age, a boastful air
Still on the war-worn vet'ran's brow attends; Still his big bones, his youthful prime declare, Though trembling, o'er the feeble crutch he bends. While round the gates the dusky wall-flow'rs creep, Where oft the knights the beaut'ous dames have led;
Gone is the bow'r, the grot a ruin'd heap,
Where bays and ivy o'er the fragments spread.
'Twas here our fires, exulting from the fight,
Great in their bloody arms, march'd o'er the lea,
Eying their refcu'd fields with proud delight;
Now loft to them! and ah, how chang'd to me!
This bank, the river, and the fanning breeze,
The dear idea of my POLLIO bring;
So, fhone the moon through these foft-nodding trees,
When here we wander'd in the eves of spring.
When April's fmiles the flow'ry lawn adorn,
And modeft cowflips deck the ftreamlet's fide:
When fragrant orchards, to the roseate morn
Unfold their bloom, in heav'n's own colours dy'd:
So fair a bloffom gentle POLLIO wore,
Thefe were the emblems of his healthful mind; To him the letter'd page difplay'd its lore,
To him bright FANCY all her wealth refign'd: Him, with her purest flames the mufe endow'd, Flames never to th' illiberal thought ally'd; The facred fifters led where VIRTUE glow'd In all her charms; he saw, he felt, and dy'd. Oh, partner of my infant griefs and joys! Big with the fcenes now paft, my heart o'erflows, Bids each endearment, fair as once, to rife,
And dwells luxur'ous on her melting woes.
Oft with the rifing fun, when life was new,
Along the woodland have I roam'd with thee;
Oft by the moon have brush'd the ev'ning dew,
When all was fearlefs INNOCENCE and glee.
The fainted-well, where yon bleak hill declines,
Has oft been confcious of thofe happy hours!
But now the hill, the river crown'd with pines,
And fainted-well, have loft their cheering pow'rs.
For thou art gone.-My guide, my friend! oh,where,
Where haft thou fled, and left me here behind:
My tend'reft with, my heart to thee was bare,
Oh, now cut off each paffage to thy mind!
How dreary is the gulph! how dark, how void,
The tracklefs fhores that never were repast!
Dread feparation! on the depth untry'd,
Hope faulters, and the foul recoils aghaft.
Wide round the fpac'ous heav'n's I caft my eyes;
And fhall thefe ftars glow with immortal fire!
Still shine the lifelefs glories of the skies!
And could thy bright, thy living foul expire?
Far be the thought!-The pleafures moft fublime,
The glow of friendship, and the virt'ous tear,
The tow'ring wifh, that fcorns the bounds of time,
Chill'd in this vale of death, but languish here.
So, plant the vine on NORWAY's wint'ry land,
The languid firanger feebly buds, and dies:
Yet there's a clime where VIRTUE fhall expand
With godlike ftrength, beneath her native fkies.
The lonely fhepherd on the mountain's fide,
With patience waits the rofy op'ning day;
The mariner at midnight's darkfome tide,
With cheerful hope expects the morning ray,
Thus I, on life's ftorm-beaten ocean toft,
In mental vision view the happy fhore,
Where POLLIO beckons to the peaceful coaft,
Where fate and death divide the friends no more!
Oh! that fome kind, fome pitying kindred fhade, Who, now perhaps, frequents this folemn grove, Would tell the awful fecrets of the dead,.
And, from my eyes the mortal film remove! Vain is the wifh-yet furely not in vain, Man's bofom glows with that celeftial fire, Which fcorns earth's luxuries, which fmiles at pain, And wings his fpirit with fublime defire. To fan this fpark of heav'n, this ray divine, Still, oh, my foul! ftill be thy dear employ; Still thus to wander through the shades be thine, And fwell thy breast with vis'onary joy! So, to the dark-brow'd wood, or facred mount, In ancient days, the holy feers retir'd; And, led in vifion, drank at SILOE's fount, While rifing ecftafies their bofoms fir'd; Reftor'd creation bright before them rofe,
The burning deferts fmil'd as EDEN's plains, One friendly fhade the wolf and lambkin chose, The flow'ry mountains fung-" MESSIAH REIGNS!"
Though fainter raptures my cold breast inspire,
Yet let me oft frequent this folemn scene,
Oft to the abbey's fhatter'd walls retire,
What time the moon-fhine dimly gleams between. There, where the CROSS in hoary ruin nods,
And weeping yews o'erfhade the letter'd ftones, While midnight filence wraps thefe drear abodes, And foothes me wand'ring o'er my kindred bones: Let kindled fancy view the glorious morn, When from the burfting graves the just shall rife, All nature smiling, and, by angels borne,
MESSIAH'S crofs far blazing o'er the skies!
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