6 From this capricious clime she soars,
      Oh! would some god but wings supply! 
    To where each morn the Spring restores,
      Companion of her flight, I’d fly.

  7 Vain wish! me Fate compels to bear
      The downward season’s iron reign,
    Compels to breathe polluted air,
      And shiver on a blasted plain.

  8 What bliss to life can Autumn yield,
      If glooms, and showers, and storms prevail,
    And Ceres flies the naked field,
      And flowers, and fruits, and Phoebus fail?

  9 Oh! what remains, what lingers yet,
      To cheer me in the darkening hour? 
    The grape remains! the friend of wit,
      In love and mirth of mighty power.

  10 Haste—­press the clusters, fill the bowl;
       Apollo! shoot thy parting ray: 
     This gives the sunshine of the soul,
       This god of health, and verse, and day.

  11 Still, still the jocund strain shall flow,
       The pulse with vigorous rapture beat;
     My Stella with new charms shall glow,
       And every bliss in wine shall meet.

[Footnote 1:  ‘Progne:’  the nightingale.]

* * * * *

  EPIGRAM

  ON GEORGE II.  AND COLLEY CIBBER, ESQ.

  Augustus still survives in Maro’s strain,
  And Spenser’s verse prolongs Eliza’s reign;
  Great George’s acts let tuneful Cibber sing,
  For Nature form’d the poet for the king.

* * * * *

  STELLA IN MOURNING.

  When lately Stella’s form display’d
  The beauties of the gay brocade,
  The nymphs, who found their power decline,
  Proclaim’d her not so fair as fine. 
  ’Fate! snatch away the bright disguise,
  And let the goddess trust her eyes.’ 
  Thus blindly pray’d the fretful fair,
  And Fate, malicious, heard the prayer;
  But brighten’d by the sable dress,
  As Virtue rises in distress,
  Since Stella still extends her reign,
  Ah! how shall Envy soothe her pain? 
  The adoring Youth and envious Fair,
  Henceforth shall form one common prayer;
  And Love and Hate alike implore
  The skies—­that Stella mourn no more.

* * * * *

  TO STELLA.

  1 Not the soft sighs of vernal gales,
    The fragrance of the flowery vales,
    The murmurs of the crystal rill,
    The vocal grove, the verdant hill;
    Not all their charms, though all unite,
    Can touch my bosom with delight.

  2 Not all the gems on India’s shore,
    Not all Peru’s unbounded store,
    Not all the power, nor all the fame,
    That heroes, kings, or poets claim;
    Nor knowledge, which the learn’d approve,
    To form one wish my soul can move.

  3 Yet Nature’s charms allure my eyes,
    And knowledge, wealth, and fame I prize;
    Fame, wealth, and knowledge I obtain,
    Nor seek I Nature’s charms in vain—­
    In lovely Stella all combine,
    And, lovely Stella! thou art mine.