An heart that scorns a shameful thing, If all whate'er my verse has told, Golconda's gems, and Afric's gold; If all were mine from pole to pole, How large her share who shares my soul? But more than these may Heaven impart; Be thine the treasures of the heart; Be calm, and glad thy future days With Virtue's peace, and Virtue's praise. Let jealous Pride, and sleepless Care, And wasting Grief, and black Despair, And Languor chill, and Anguish fell, For ever shun thy grove and cell; There only may the happy train Of Love, and Joy, and Peace, remain : May Plenty, with exhaustless store, Employ thy hand to feed the poor, And ever on thy honor'd head The prayer of Gratitude be shed. A happy mother may'st thou see Thy smiling virtuous progeny, Whose sportful tricks, and airy play, Fraternal love, and prattle gay, Or wond'rous tale, or joyful song May lure the lingering hours along, Till Death arrive, unfelt, unseen, With gentle pace, and placid mien, And waft thee to that happy shore, Where wishes can have place no more. ΤΟ A YOUNG LADY, ON HER PLAYING UPON THE HARPSICHORD, In a Room hung with some Flower-Pieces of her own Painting. By the Same. WHEN STELLA strikes the tuneful string Where Beauty lavishes her powers, When charms thus press on every sense, Delighting, as the youth draws nigh, To point the glances of her eye; And forming, with unerring art, New chains to hold the captive heart. Might Truth intrude with daring flight, Mark, when from thousand mingled dyes, How passion's well-accorded strife Thy pictures shall thy conduct frame, ΤΟ MRS. CREWE. BY THE RIGHT HON. CHARLES JAMES FOX. WHERE the loveliest expression to features is join'd, Where blushes unbidden, and smiles without art, |