There are, who, deaf to mad Ambition's call, DR. BEATTIE, WHEN in the crimfson cloud of even The lingering light decays, And Hefper on the front of heaven His glittering gem difplays; Deep in the filent vale, unfeen, Befide a lulling ftream, A pensive youth of placid mien, II. Ye cliffs, in hoary grandeur piled Ye woods, along whofe windings wild Where Melancholy ftrays forlorn, And Woe retires to weep, What time the wan moon's yellow horn Το III. you, ye wastes, whose artless charms Ne'er drew Ambition's eye, 'Scaped 'Scaped a tumultuous world's alarms, Deep in your most fequefter'd' bower Where Solitude, mild, modeft power, IV. How shall I woo thee, matchless fair! Thy heavenly fmile how win? Thy smile that smooths the brow of Care, O wilt thou to thy favourite grove Thine ardent votary bring, And blefs his hours, and bid them move V. Oft let remembrance footh his mind With dreams of former days, When in the lap of Peace reclin'd Nor Envy with malignant glare His fimple youth had harm'd. VI. 'Twas then, O Solitude! to thee His early vows were paid, From heart fincere, and warm, and free, Devoted to the shade. Ah why did Fate his steps decoy In ftormy paths to roam, K 5 Remote Remote from all congenial joy?— .O take the wanderer home. VII. Thy fhades, thy filence, now be mine, My haunt the hollow cliff, whose pine Whence the scar'd owl on pinions grey VIII. pours O while to thee the woodland Its wildly warbling fong, And balmy from the bank of flowers The zephyr breathes along; Let no rude found invade from far, No ray from grandeur's gilded car Flash on the startled eye! No more I climb those toilfome heights Leaps my fond fluttering heart no more To Mirth's enlivening ftrain; For present pleasure foon is o'er, And all the past is vain. SECT. CXI. DR. BEATTIE. AN ELEGY. TILL shall unthinking man substantial deem STILL The forms that fleet through life's deceitful dream; Till at fome ftroke of Fate the vision flies, And fad realities in profpect rife; And, from Elyfian flumbers rudely torn, The startled foul awakes, to think and mourn? K 6 Wife, Wife, Beauteous, Good! O every grace combin'd, That, heard remote, along the vale decay! Still let me gaze, and every care beguile, That brow, where Wisdom fits enthron'd ferene, By thee infpir'd, O Virtue, age is young, Ah, |