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149
ODE TO SIMPLICITY.
Written at the Leasowes, in 1788.
Haste, modest nymph, forego thy moss-crown'd cell,Clad in thy milk-white vest
Of artless texture, by the Graces drest:
Come seek th' adust retreat of these lone groves,
Where Shenstone breath'd, ere Fate had rung his knell;
And join the requiem of confederate Loves.
Can you forget how oft, in wooing you,
He artless led the Passions in a throng?
No suppliant ever felt a flame more true,
And Wit and Beauty mingled in his song:
Tho' Nepthe blaz'd, her brows with mirtle twin'd;
Not all her loveliness could shake his constant mind.
In the meridian of his quiet day,
When gentle Reason had matur'd his youth;
The relatives of Phœbus bless'd that lay
He ardent gave, and gave it with his truth:
Pure were his morals as the Patriarch's thought,
And Heaven approv'd the dogma Fancy taught.
Ah, me! that breast which glow'd with patriot fire,
Beneath this grass-green mantle lies entomb'd!
Cold is that nerve which harmoniz'd the lyre,
And all his bright'ning faculties consum'd:
Come then, such fallen excellence deplore;
His harp's unstrung, his minstrelsy is o'er.
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