AN INSCRIPTION

WRITTEN UPON ONE OF THE TUBS IN HAM-WALKS, SEPTEMBER, 1760.

BY THE SAME.

D

ARK was the sky with many a cloud,
The rearful lightnings flash'd around,

1 Low to the blast the forest bow'd,

And bellowing thunders rock'd the ground;

Faft fell the rains upon my head,

And weak and weary were my feet,

When lo! this hofpitable shed

At length supply'd a kind retreat.

That in fair memory's faithful page

The bard's escape may flourish long,
Yet fhuddering from the tempeft's rage,
He dedicates the votive fong.

Two feats in Ham-walks, called Tubs, from their form, which refembles an hogshead split in two.

For ever facred be the earth

From whence the tree its vigour drew! The hour that gave the seedling birth! The foreft where the fcyon grew!.

Long honour'd may his ashes reft,

Who firft the tender fhoot did rear! Bleft be his name !-But doubly bleft The friendly hand that plac'd it here!

O ne'er may war, or wind, or wave,
This pleasurable scene deform,

But time still fpare the feat, which gave
fhelter from the ftorm!

The

poet

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VERSES

WRITTEN UPON A PEDESTAL BENEATH A ROW OF ELMS IN A MEADOW NEAR RICHMOND FERRY, BELONGING TO RICHARD OWEN CAMBRIDGE, ESQ. SEPTEMBER 1760.

YE

BY THE SAME.

E green-hair'd nymphs, whom Pan allows
To guard from harm these favour'd boughs;
Ye blue-ey'd Naiads of the ftream,

That soothe the warm poetic dream;

Ye elves and fprights, that thronging round, 1
When midnight darkens all the ground,

In antic measures uncontroul'd,

Your fairy sports and revels hold,

And up and down, where-e'er ye pass,
With many a ringlet print the grass;
If e'er the bard hath hail'd your power

At morn's grey dawn, or evening hour;

The first line of this little piece is borrowed from an Ode of Mr. Mafon's, published in Dodfley's Mifcellanies.

If

If e'er by moon-light on the plain
Your ears have caught th' enraptur'd strain ;
From every flow'ret's velvet head,

From reverend Thames's oozy bed,

From these mofs'd elms, where, prison'd deep,
Conceal'd from human eyes, ye fleep,

If these

haunts be worth your care, your Awake, arife, and hear my prayer!

O banish from this peaceful plain
The perjur'd nymph, the faithlefs fwain,
The ftubborn heart, that fcorns to bow
And harsh rejects the honest vow:
The fop, who wounds the virgin's ear,
With aught that sense would blush to hear,
Or, false to honour, mean and vain,
Defames the worth he cannot stain :
The light coquet, with various art,
Who cafts her net for every heart,
And smiling flatters to the chace
Alike the worthy and the base:

The dame, who, proud of virtue's praise
Is happy if a fifter strays,

And, confcious of unclouded fame,
Delighted, fpreads the tale of shame :
But far, O! banish'd får be they,
Who hear unmov'd the orphan's cry,
Who fee, nor wish to wipe away

The tear that fwells the widow's eye;

Th' unloving man, whofe narrow mind
Difdains to feel for human-kind,

At others' blifs whose cheek ne'er glows,
Whose breast ne'er throbs with others' woes,
Whofe hoarded fum of private joys
His private care alone destroys;

Ye fairies cast your spells around,

And guard from fuch this hallow'd ground!

But welcome all, who figh with truth,
Each constant maid and faithful youth,
Whom mutual love alone hath join'd,
Sweet union of the willing mind!
Hearts pair'd in Heaven, not meanly fold,
Law-licens'd prostitutes for Gold:
And welcome thrice, and thrice again,
The chofen few, the worthy train,
Whofe fteady feet, untaught to stray,

Still tread where virtue marks the way;

Whofe fouls no thought, whofe hands have known

No deed, which honour might not own ;
Who, torn with pain, or ftung with care,
In others' blifs can claim a part,
And, in life's brightest hour, can share
Each pang that wrings another's heart:
Ye guardian spirits, when fuch ye fee,
Sweet peace be theirs, and welcome free!
Clear be the sky from clouds or showers!
Green be the turf, and fresh the flowers!

And