Reader! since Parson Sleep is gone,
And lies beneath yon humble stone,
...
How fairly Fortune all her gifts imparts;
We win your money, Ann, and you our hearts.
...
Say, lovely Charlotte! will you let me prove
What diff'rent thoughts thy taste and beauty move?
...
Still Summer lingers on these peaceful shores,
Nor yet she quits her rose-ere ...
...
Tell me, thou grotto! o'er whose brow are seen
Projecting plumes, and shades of deep'ning green,-
While not a sound disturbs thy stony hall,
...
Ah! if my voice is heard in vain,
This fond, this falling, tear
May yet thy dire intent restrain,
May yet dissolve my fear.
...
A wreath from an immortal bough
Should deck that gen'rous victor's brow,
Who hears his captive's grateful praise
...
Wilt thou, because thy Florio loves,
Forsake the giddy glitt'ring throng,
With him to dwell in peaceful groves,
...
The leaves are flutter'd by no tell-tale gales,
Clear melts the azure in the rosy west,
Scarce heard, the river winds along the vales,
...