Not fo the nights that in thy halls, Once, Rofline, danc'd in joy along: Where owls now fcream along thy walls, Refounded mirth-infpiring fong... Where bats now reft their footy wings, What now avails, how great? how gay? And e'en the ftones have loft their names. And yon gay crouds must foon expire, Oh, Mira! what is ftate or wealth? Come, and be mine! in this sweet spot, We'll live, and Esk fhall, in a cot, HIGHAM BY MR. NICHOLLS. N Higham Hill, when profpects fair I love to breathe the morning air, Then, oh! then, I love to rife, And trace the broom-clad hill; Whilft thro' the ftillness foftly flies From dingle, bath, or dale, As down the flope I traverse then, The wonders Heav'n presents to men, And wish the atheist by: His mind, howe'er impervious grown To theologick lore, With me, I think, would quickly own A fupernatural Pow'r! When bufinefs dulls the mental pow'rs, To Higham Hill I run, And with the breath of op'ning flow'rs Then Then how my foul revives again! My fancy takes her flight; The muse resumes her wonted ftrain, Let the proud thing of human race, Scuds to-day from place to place, The top of Higham Hill for me, Peace and Health! O, facred theme, With all that's blissful fraught! The rest is but an empty dream, Not worth a poet's thought: May he, who ftrives for more than this, Still turn a barren foil, Nor ever meet a ray of bliss Bear me from hence, fome rural god, To Higham Hill again; The choiceft bloom that decks the fod I'll scatter round thy fane : For, O! I long, at fervid noon, To breathe the blue-bell's fweet; To fit and hear the throftle's tune, Where spreading hazels meet; Or ftray by hawthorn hedge, or rove Adown the pathless way, When ev'ry fong-bird chears his love Beneath the bloom of May; Till weary k herds retire to reft, Till sheep are pent in fold, Till Phoebus leaves the ruddy weft If, when I ftray to Higham Hill, And oft I've fang the tender ftrain, Their loves to me the fhepherds tell, What fwains have faithlefs prov'd; I love their plaints to hear; No thorns obftru&t their path of life, With health their farms abound; And, foes to law and lawless ftrife, They live the zodiack round. Το Aloft in awful state The godlike hero fate On his imperial throne: His valiant peers were plac'd around, Their brows with roses and with myrtles bound; (So fhould defert in arms be crown'd.) The lovely Thaïs by his fide, Sat like a blooming Eaftern bride, In flow'r of youth and beauty's pride. Happy, happy, happy pair! None but the brave, None but the brave, None but the brave deferves the fair. Timotheus, plac'd on high, Amid the tuneful quire, With flying fingers touch'd the lyre; And heavenly joys infpire. The |