We pierce the counterfeit delight,
Fatigued with splendour's irksome beams.
Fancy again demands the sight

Of native groves, and wonted streams,
Pants for the scenes that charm’d her youthful eyes,
Where truth maintains her court, and banishes disguise.

Then hither oft, ye senators, retire,

With nature here high converse hold; For who like STAMFORD her delights admire,

Like STAMFORD shall with scorn behold
Th' unequal bribes of pageantry and gold;
Beneath the British oak’s majestic shade,

Shall see fair truth, immortal maid,
Friendship in artless guise array'd,

Honour, and moral beauty shine
With more attractivecharms, with radiance more divine.

Yes, here alone did highest heav'n ordain

The lasting magazine of charms,
Whatever wins, whatever warms,
Whatever fancy seeks to share,
The great, the various, and the fair,

For ever should remain !

Her impulse nothing may restrain-
Or whence the joy 'mid columns, tow'rs,

'Midst all the city's artful trim,
To rear some breathless vapid flow’rs,

Or shrubs fuliginously grim;
From rooms of silken foliage vain,

To trace the dun far distant grove,
Where smit with undissembled pain,

The wood-lark mourns her absent love,
Borne to the dusty town from native air,
To mimic rural life, and sooth some vapour'd fair?

But how must faithless art prevail,
Should all who taste our joy sincere,
To virtue, truth, or science dear,

Forego a court's alluring pale,
For dimpled brook and leafy grove,
For that rich luxury of thought they love !
Ah no, from these the public sphere requires

Example for its giddy bands;

From these impartial heav'n demands To spread the flame itself inspires,

To sift opinion's mingled mass, Impress a nation's taste, and bid the sterling pass.

Happy, thrice happy they,
Whose graceful deeds have exemplary shone
Round the gay precincts of a throne,

With mild effective beams!
Who bands of fair ideas bring,
By solemn grot, or shady spring,

To join their pleasing dreams!
Theirs is the rural bliss without alloy,

They only that deserve, enjoy.

What tho' nor fabled dryad haunt their grove,

Nor naiad near their fountains rove,
Yet all embody'd to the mental sight,

A train of smiling virtues bright

Shall there the wise retreat allow, Shall twine triumphant palms to deck the wanderer's

brow.

And though by faithless friends alarm’d,
Art have with nature waged presumptuous war ;

By SEYMOUR’s winning influence charm’d,
In whom their gifts united shine,

No longer shall their counsels jar.

"Tis hers to meditate the peace ;

Near Percy-lodge, with awe-struck mien,

The rebel seeks her lawful queen,
And havock and contention cease.

I see the rival pow'rs combine,
And aid each other's fair design;

Nature exalt the mound where art shall build ; Art shape the gay alcove, while nature paints the field.

Begin, ye songsters of the grove !
O warble forth your noblest lay;
Where SOMERSET vouchsafes to rove,
Ye leverets, freely sport and play.

-Peace to the strepent horn!
Let no harsh dissonance disturb the morn,

No sounds inelegant and rude
Her sacred solitudes profane,
Unless her candour can exclude

The lowly shepherd's votive strain,
Who tunes his reed amidst his rural cheer,
Fearful, yet not averse, that SOMERSET should hear.

WINTER AMUSEMENTS.

(ANSTEY.]

Y beauteous nymphs, and jovial swains,

Who deck'd with youthful bloom,
In gay assemblage meet to grace

Philander's cheerful dome :

Mark how the wintry clouds hang o'er

Yon frowning mountain's brow! Mark how the rude winds warp the stream,

And rock the leafless bough!

The painted meads and flow'ry lawns

Their wonted pride give o'er;
The feather'd flocks in silence mourn,

Their notes are heard no more,

Save where beneath the lonely shed,

Or desolated thorn,
The red-breast heaves his ruffled plumes,

And tunes his pipe forlorn :

Yet shall the sun's reviving ray

Recall the genial spring:
The painted meads resume their pride,

The feather'd flocks shall sing ;

But not to you shall e'er return

The pride of gaudy years: When pining Age, with icy hand,

His hoary mantle rears :

When once, alas ! his churlish blast
Shall your bright spring subdue,