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Poems on Several Occasions

With some Select Essays in Prose. In Two Volumes. By John Hughes; Adorn'd with Sculptures

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AN ODE. In the PARK at ASTED.

I.

Ye Muses, that frequent these Walks and Shades,
The Seat of calm Repose,
Which Howard's happy Genius chose;
Where, taught by You, his Lyre he strung,
And oft, like Philomel, in dusky Glades
Sweet amorous Voluntaries sung!
O Say, ye kind inspiring Powers!
With what melodious Strain
Will you indulge my pensive Vein,
And charm my Solitary Hours?

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II.

Begin, and Echo shall the Song repeat;
While skreen'd from August's fev'rish Heat,
Beneath this spreading Elm I lie,
And view the yellow Harvest far around,
The neighb'ring Fields with Plenty crown'd,
And over Head a fair Unclouded Sky.
The Wood, the Park's romantick Scene,
The Deer, that innocent and gay
On the soft Turf's perpetual Green
Pass all their Lives in Love and Play,
Are various Objects of Delight,
That sport with Fancy, and invite
Your Aid, the Pleasure to compleat;
Begin—and Echo shall the Song repeat.

III.

Hark!—the kind inspiring Pow'rs
Answer from their secret Bow'rs,
Propitious to my Call!
They join their Choral Voices all,
To charm my Solitary Hours.
Listen, they cry, thou pensive Swain!
Tho' much the tuneful Sisters love
The Fields, the Park, the shady Grove:
The Fields, and Park, and shady Grove,
The tuneful Sisters now disdain,

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And chuse to sooth thee with a sweeter Strain;
Molinda's Praises shall our Skill employ,
Molinda, Nature's Pride, and ev'ry Muse's Joy!
The Muses triumph'd at her Birth,
When, first descending from her Parent Skies,
This Star of Beauty shot to Earth;
Love saw the Fires that darted from her Eyes,
He saw, and smil'd—the winged Boy
Gave early Omens of her conquering Fame,
And to his Mother lisp'd her Name,
Molinda!—Nature's Pride, and ev'ry Muse's Joy.

IV.

Say, beauteous Asted! has thy honour'd Shade
Ever receiv'd that lovely Maid?
Ye Nymphs and Sylvan Deities, confess
That shining festal Day of Happiness!
For if the lovely Maid was here,
April himself, tho' in so fair a Dress
He clothe the Meads, tho' his delicious Show'rs
Awake the Blossoms and the breathing Flow'rs,
And new-create the fragrant Year;
April himself, or brighter May,
Assisted by the God of Day,
Never made your Grove so gay,
Or half so full of Charms appear.

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V.

Whatever rural Seat She now doth grace,
And shines a Goddess of the Plains,
Imperial Love new Triumphs there ordains,
Removes with her from Place to Place,
With her he keeps his Court, and where she lives he reigns.
A thousand bright Attendants more
Her glorious Equipage compose:
There circling Pleasure ever flows:
Friendship, and Arts, a well-selected Store,
Good-Humour, Wit, and Musick's soft Delight,
The shorten'd Minutes there beguile,
And sparkling Mirth, that never looks so bright,
As when it lightens in Molinda's Smile.

VI.

Thither, ye Guardian Pow'rs (if such there are,
Deputed from the Sky
To watch o'er Human-kind with friendly Care,)
Thither, ye gentle Spirits fly!
If Goodness like your own can move
Your constant Zeal, your tender'st Love,
For ever wait on this accomplish'd Fair!
Shield her from ev'ry ruder Breath of Air.
Nor let invading Sickness come
To blast those Beauties in their Bloom.

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May no misguided Choice, no hapless Doom,
Disturb the Heav'n of her fair Life
With Clouds of Grief, or Show'rs of melting Tears;
Let harsh Unkindness, and ungenerous Strife,
Repining Discontent, and boding Fears,
With ev'ry Shape of Woe, be driv'n away
Like Ghosts prohibited the Day.
Let Peace o'er her his Dovelike Wings display,
And smiling Joys crown all her blissful Years!