I come, dear companion in grief!
Gay scenes and fond pleasures, adieu!
I come, and we'll gather relief

From bofoms fo chafte and fo true.

Like you, I have mourn'd the long night,
And wept out the day in despair;
Like I have banish'd delight,
you,

And bofom'd a friend in my care.

Ye meadows fo lively †, farewell!
Your velvet ftill Allen fhall tread;
All deaf to the found of that knell

Which tolls for his Ella when dead.

Your wifh will, too fure, be obey'd;
Nor Allen her lofs fhall bemoan;

Soon, foon fhall poor Ella be laid

Where her heart fhall be cold as your own.

Then twin'd in the arms of that fair,

Whose wealth has been Ella's fad fate;

As together ye draw the free air,

And a thousand dear pleasures relate;

If chance, o'er my turf, as ye tread,
Ye dare to affect a fond figh,
The primrose will shrink her pale head,

Perhaps it is, "And the violet languifh and die.”

Ah!

Ah! weep not, fond maid! 'tis in vain ;
Like the tears which you lend to the stream;
Tears are loft in that wat❜ry plain,

1

And your fighs are still loft upon him.

Scarce echo had gather'd the found,

But the plung'd from her grafs-fpringing bed:

The liquid ftream parts, to the ground,

And the mirror clos'd over her head.

The fwains of the village, at eve,
Oft meet at the dark-fpreading yew;
There, wonder how man could deceive
A bofom fo chafte and so true.

With garlands, of ev'ry flow'r,

(Which Ella herself shou'd have made,)] They raise up a fhort-living bow'r;

And, fighing! cry, "Peace to her fhade."

Then, hand-lock'd-in-hand, as they move
The green-platting hillock around;
They talk of poor Ella, and love;

And freshen, with tears, the fair ground.

Nay, wifh they had never been born,

Or liv'd, the fad moment to view! When her Allen could thus be forfworn, And his Ella could ftill be fo true.

LINES

LINES ON THE

MUCH LAMENTED DEATH OF THE MARQUIS OF TAVISTOCK.

The poet after giving a fhort but juft character of the marquis; and defcribing the grief of his noble father the duke of Bedford, proceeds thus:

EE where the object of his filial love,

SEE

His mother, loft in tears, laments his doom: Speak comfort to her foul:

O! from the facred fount, where flow thy ftreams
Of heav'nly confolation, O! one drop,

To footh his hapless wife! harp forrow preys
Upon her tender frame-Alas, the faints,-
She falls ftill grasping in her hand

The picture of her lord-All gracious heav'n!
Juft are thy ways, and righteous thy decrees,
But dark and intricate; else why this meed
For tender faithful love; this fad return
For innocence and truth? Was it for this
By virtue and the fmiling graces led,
(Fair types of long fucceeding years of joy,)
She twin'd the votive wreath at Hymen's fhrine,

So

So foon to fade and die ?-Yet O! reflect, ne'er deplor'd

Chafte partner of his life! you

His alienated heart: (difaftrous ftate!

Condition worse than death!) the facred torch
Burnt to the laft its unremitted fires!
The conscious thought of every duty paid,
That sweet reflection fhall fupport thy mind.

This be thy comfort:-turn thine

eyes awhile, Nor with that lifeless picture feed thy woe;

Turn yet thine eyes; fee how they court thy finiles,

Thofe infant pledges of connubial joy!

Dwell on their looks, and trace his image there:
And ! fince heav'n, in pity to thy loss,
For thee one future bleffing has in ftore †,
Cherish that tender hope-hear reafon's voice.
Hufh'd be the ftorms that vex thy troubled breast,
And angels guard thee in the hour of pain.

THE CONTENTED PAIR.

A cottage, with a fteeple nigh,

A little brook that bubbles by; A garden full of fruits and flowers, Of moffy beds and fhady bowers; An orchard richly ftor'd with fruit That any lady's tafte may fuit;

She was then with child.

Daifies

Daifies o'er fpread th' enamel'd ground,
Diffufing fragrance all around;

The tender trees and fhrubs exhale,
Those sweets that blow with ev'ry gale;
The fertile lands and fruitful fields,
Enliv'ning all that nature yields;
Without, you view this lovely frame,
Within, the scene is much the fame.
Tho' fome would call our cottage mean,
Few palaces are kept so clean.
For fumptuous fare we never look
When there's a flitch upon the hook.
Bleft with two lovely girls and boys,
Who part our care and share our joys,
We chearful pass the time away
In labour all the live long day;
With hearts quite open and fincere,
With no improper wish or fear,
We study, aim, and wish to do
Juft as we would be done unto;
Thinking content a greater gain
Than pride with all her haughty train,
Or blaze and splendour of a court,
Where honour's often but a sport.
Contented, as we faid before,
We neither afk or wifh for more;
To wish for more were but a jest,
To providence we leave the rest.

VERSES