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ODE ON SPRING.

Hamilton del

Sharp se

Beside some water's rushy brink
With me the Mufe shall sit, & think,

(At Ease reclined in rustic state,)

How vain the ardour of the croud,
How low, how little are the proud,
How indigent the Great!

London:1 Jan 1780. Publishd as the Act directs, by J.Murray, N32 Fleet Street ·

OD E

ON THE

SPRING.

L

O! where the rofy-bofom'd hours,

Fair VENUS' train, appear,

Disclose the long-expecting flowers,
And wake the purple year!

The Attic warbler pours her throat,
Refponfive to the cuckow's note,
The untaught harmony of spring:
While, whisp'ring pleasure as they fly,
Cool Zephyrs thro' the clear blue sky
Their gather'd fragrance fling.

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Where-e'er the oak's thick branches ftretch

A broader browner fhade;

Where-e'er the rude and mofs-grown beech

O'er-canopies the glade;

Befide fome water's rufhy brink

With me the Muse shall fit, and think,

(At ease reclin'd in rustic state),

How vain the ardour of the crowd,

How low, how little are the proud,

How indigent the great!

Still is the toiling hand of Care;

The panting herds repofe:

Yet hark, how thro' the peopled air

The bufy murmur glows!

The infect youth are on the wing,

Eager to taste the honied fpring,

And

And float amid the liquid noon::

Some lightly o'er the current skim,
Some fhew their gayly-gilded trim
Quick-glancing to the fun.

To Contemplation's fober eye

Such is the race of man:

And they that creep, and they that fly,

Shall end where they began.

Alike the busy and the gay

But flutter thro' life's little day,

In Fortune's varying colours dreft:

Brush'd by the hand of rough Mischance,

Or chill'd by Age, their airy dance

They leave in duft to reft.

Methinks I hear, in accents low,

The sportive kind reply;

Poor Moralift! and what art thou?

A folitary fly!

D 2

Thy

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