With him I'd learn of every star,
But four-ey'd Pedantry be far,
And Ignorance in garb of Sense,
With terms of art to make pretence.

Hail happy foil! illuftrious earth!
Which gav'st so many heroes birth;
Which never wand'ring poet trod,
But felt within th' infpiring God!
In these transporting, folemn fhades,
First I falute th' Aonian maids.

Ah lead me, Genius, to thy haunts,
Where Philomel at evʼning chants,
And as my oaten pipe resounds,
Give music to the forming founds.
A simple shepherd, yet unknown,
Afpires to snatch an ivy crown,
On daring pinions bold to foar,
Though here thy Waller fung before,
And Johnson dipt his learned pen,

And Sidney pour'd his fancy-flowing strain.

TO THE

Hon. WILMOT VAUGHAN, Efq; in WALES.

By the Same.

E distant realms that hold my friend

YE

Beneath a cold ungenial sky,

Where lab'ring groves with weight of vapours bend,

Or raving winds o'er barren mountains fly;

Reftore him quick to London's focial clime,

Restore him quick to friendship, love and joy;

Be fwift, ye lazy fteeds of Time,

Ye moments, all your speed employ.
Behold November's glooms arife,

Pale funs with fainter glory fhine,

Dark gathering tempefts blacken in the skies,
And fhiv'ring woods their fickly leaves refign.
Is this a time on Cambrian hills to roam,

To court disease in Winter's baleful reign,
To listen to th' Atlantic foam,

While rocks repel the roaring main,

While

While horror fills the region vast,

Rheumatic tortures Eurus brings,

Pregnant with agues flies the northern blast,
And clouds drop quartans from their flagging wings.
Doft thou explore Sabrina's fountful fource,
Where huge Plinlimmon's hoary height ascends:
Then downward mark her vagrant course,
'Till mix'd with clouds the landscape ends?
Doft thou revere the hallow'd foil

Where Druids old fepulchred lie;
Or up cold Snowden's craggy fummits toil,
And muse on ancient favage liberty?
Ill fuit fuch walks with bleak autumnal air,
Say, can November yield the joys of May?
When Jove deforms the blafted year,
Can Wallia boaft a chearful day?

The town expects thee.

Hark, around,

Through every ftreet of gay resort,

New chariots rattle with awak'ning found,
And crowd the levees, and befiege the court.
The patriot, kindling as his wars enfue,
Now fires his foul with liberty and fame,
Marshals his threat'ning tropes anew,
And gives his hoarded thunders aim.

Now feats their abfent lords deplore,
Neglected villas empty stand,
Capacious Gro'venor gathers all its store,
And mighty London fwallows up the land.
See fportive Vanity her flights begin,
See new-blown Folly's plenteous harvest rise,
See mimic beauties dye their skin,
And harlots roll their venal eyes.
Fashions are fet, and fops return,

And young coquettes in arms appear;
Dreaming of conqueft, how their bosoms burn,
Trick'd in the new fantastry of the year.

Fly then away, nor fcorn to bear a part
In this gay scene of folly amply spread:
Follies well us'd refine the heart,
And pleasures clear the studious head;
By grateful interchange of mirth

The toils of study sweeter grow,

As varying seasons recommend the earth,
Nor does Apollo always bend his bow..

ΑΝ

WHILE born to bring the Mufe's happier days,

A patriot's hand protects a poet's lays:

While nurs❜d by you she fees her myrtles bloom,
Green and unwither'd o'er his honour'd tomb:

Excufe her doubts, if yet fhe fears to tell

What fecret transports in her bosom swell:

With confcious awe fhe hears the critic's fame,

And blushing hides her wreath at Shakespear's name.

Hard