Printed by DRYDEN LEACH;

For J. CooTE, at the King's Arms, in Pater-nofter-Row. MDCCLXIII,

THE

POETICAL CALENDAR.

APRIL.

T

AN ODE.

O woo green April, lo the fun
That very form (which Jove put on
To bear Europa from her native land)
Affumes to win the queen of showers!
A new-blown primrose decks her hand,
Her taper waift a zone of flowers;
Like a young widow she appears
Shining thro' fhades, and beautiful in tears.

Now genial nature every feed

Opens to grace the vernal mead,

The lark now ventures up the sapphire skies,
Tho' Zephyr shakes his madid wing,

Yet warmth awakes the embryo flies
To creep, and meet parental spring:
When lo! a fhower of drizzling rain,
Or drowns, or drives them to their nests again!

VOL. IV.

B

Pro

Prolific mifts o'er every rill

Prefide, and fhade the distant hill;
A tepid moisture gladdens every root,
The husbandmen now pole and bind
The hops, and bid the tendrils fhoot,
Thus guarded from the southern wind,
While every vegetative power

Imbibes young April's foft balfamic shower.

Mark! how each month's unwearied toil
Succeffive cloaths, or ftrips the foil!
From heat to cold they traverse thro' the sky,
And yet unerring is the plan,

And regular from hot to dry

The calendar of focial man!

In no one track the steps appear,
Yet all to one united centre fteer.

W.

AN

Tern winter now, by fpring reprefs'd,
Forbears the long-continued ftrife,

And nature, on her naked breast,
Delights to catch the gales of life.

Now, o'er the rural kingdom roves
Soft Pleasure with her laughing train,
Love warbles in the vocal groves,
And vegetation paints the plain.

Unhappy! whom to beds of pain
Arthritic tyranny configns,

Whom fmiling nature courts in vain,
Tho' rapture fings, and beauty fhines.

Yet, tho' my limbs disease invades,
Her wings imagination tries,
And bears me to the peaceful fhades,
Where -'s humble turrets rife.

Here ftop, my foul, thy rapid flight,
Nor from the pleafing groves depart,
Where first great nature charm'd my fight,
Where wisdom first inform'd my heart.