Be the stern virtue of thy soul resign'd, By all thy hopes, by Death's tremendous gloom! So may each blessing, which impartial fate, And heav'n's best gift, a virtuous love be thine! WRITTEN DURING A TOUR TO THE WEST OF ENGLAND. Hic ipso tecum consumerer ævo. FROM ev'ry rich and gaudy scene, I court the solitary green, Or o'er the pathless mountains stray. From vice, from folly, pomp, and noise, On Reason's wings I fly: All hail ye long expected joys Of calm tranquillity! At least in this secure retreat, Unvisited by kings, Has virtue fix'd her halcyon seat, And freedom waves her wings. B 3 O gentle Lady of the West, Whose charms on this sequester'd shore, With love can fire a stranger's breast; A breast that never lov'd before! O tell me, in what silent vale, To hail the balmy breath of May, Thy tresses floating on the gale, All simply neat, thou deign'st to stray: Not such thy look, not such thy air, Not such thy unaffected grace; As 'mid the town's deceitful glare, Mark the proud nymph's disdainful face. Health's rosy bloom upon thy cheek, Such be thy form! thy noble mind In reason's plain and simple way. Indiff'rent Indiff'rent if the eye of fame, Thy merit unobserving see; And heedless of the praise or blame O gentle Lady of the West! To find thee be my only task; Sequester'd in some secret glade, And if Content adorn the shade, What more can Heav'n or Nature give? Too long deceiv'd by pomp's false glare, 'Tis thou must soothe my soul to rest ; Tis thou must soften ev'ry care, O gentle Lady of the West! THE FOLLOWING VERSES WERE ADDRESSED TO MRS. DAY, During an absence of a few weeks into the North of England. LET lighter Bards in sportive numbers play, THESE |