Thence with death-dooming eye survey: Channels by rocky torrents torn, To start again at his command, More tempting twine their opening bowers, Supreme of mountains, Skiddow, hail!, From foul usurping vapors free! 'Twere glorious now his side to climb, Boldly to scale his top sublime! And thence-my Muse, these flights forbear, Nor with wild raptures tire the Fair. Hills, rocks, and dales have been too long The subject of thy rambling song. Far other scenes their minds employ, And move their hearts with softer joy. For pleasures they need never roam, Theirs with affection dwell, at home. Thrice happy they at home to prove A Parent's and a Brother's love; Her bright example pleas'd to trace, Learn every virtue, every grace, Which lustre give in female life To daughter, sister, parent, wife : Grateful to see her guardian care A tender Father's loss repair, And, rising far o'er grief and pain, The glories of her race maintain. Their ancient seats let others fly, Welcomes the friend, relieves the poor; Thus gives her gather'd streams again O may the virtues which adorn With modest beams his rising morn, Unclouded grow to perfect day! May He with bounty's brightest ray The natives chear, enrich the soil, With arts improve, reward their toil, Glad with kind warmth, our northern sky, generous Lonsdale's loss supply. And EPISTLE VII. (WRITTEN IN THE CLOSE OF WINTER) TO A FRIEND, JUST LEAVING A FAVORITE RETIREMENT, Previous to settling abroad. BY THE REV. SAMUEL HENLEY, ERE yet your footsteps quit the place The conscious scenes your own no more. When vernal clouds their influence shower, Expand the bud, and rear the flower, Who to yon leafing grove will come Where the rath primrose loves to bloom, And fondly seek with heedful tread The forward floret's downy head? Or, when the violet leaves the ground, Scent the pure perfume breathing round? Epist. VII. EPISTLES DESCRIPTIVE, &c. 61 The garden tribes that gladlier grew Who first will spy the swallow's wing, O'er the broad down who then delight, Most clamorous when least danger's nigh? Who listless now will sauntering stay |