III. Her air was fo modeft, her afpect so meek; Now jocund together we tend a few sheep, IV. Together we range o'er the flow rising hills, Delighted with pastoral views, Or reft on the rock whence the ftreamlet diftils, To pomp or proud titles she ne'er did aspire, The cottager, Peace, is well known for her fire, CORY, COR Y D ON: A PASTORAL. To the Memory of WILLIAM SHEN STONE, Efq; BY THE SAME. I. NOME, fhepherds, we'll follow the hearfe, COM We'll fee our lov'd Corydon laid, Tho' forrow may blemish the verse, Yet let a fad tribute be paid. They call'd him the pride of the plain; He mark'd on his elegant ftrain The graces that glow'd in his mind. II. On purpose he planted yon trees, That birds in the covert might dwell; Ye lambkins that play'd at his feet, His mufic was artless and sweet, His manners as mild as your own. III. No III. No verdure shall cover the vale, No bloom on the blossoms appear; The sweets of the forest shall fail, And winter discolour the year. No birds in our hedges shall fing, (Our hedges so vocal before) the season no more. Can greet IV. His Phillis was fond of his praise, And poets came round in a throng; They listen’d,--they envy'd his lays, But which of them equal'd his song? Ye shepherds, henceforward be mute, For lost is the pastoral strain; So give me my Corydon's flute, And thus-let me break it in twain. I. Love and beauty crof'd the plains, Love dispatch'd among the fwains, L 4 Bot But fo much our fhepherds dread him, Prais'd the fly musician's art; Cupid will enforce your duty, May by MELODY be caught. THE HOUSE OF SUPERSTITION. A VISI O N. BY MR. DENTON. W I. 'HEN fleep's all-foothing hand with fetters foft Ties down each fenfe, and lulls to balmy reft, The internal pow'r, creative fancy, oft Broods o'er her treasures in the formful breaft. To fancy's eye, and join'd this fairy scene compofe. II. As, when fair morning tries her pearly tears, 'Thus new to fight a Gothic dome appears And her lip-labour'd orifons fhe plies In tongue unknown, when morn bedews the plain, |