ETHOUGHT I saw my late espoused saint

Brought to me like Alcestis from the grave,

Whom Jove's great son to her glad husband gave Rescued from death by force, though pale and faint. Mine, as whom washed from spot of child-bed taint,

ON MAY MORNING.

Purification in the old law did save;

And such, as yet once more I trust to have Full sight of her in heaven without restraint, Came vested all in white, pure as her mind:

Her face was veiled, yet to my fancied sight Love, sweetness, goodness, in her person shined So clear, as in no face with more delight.

But oh! as to embrace me she inclined,

I waked-she fled-and day brought back my night.

Song.

on May Morning.

OW the bright Morning Star, day's harbinger,

Comes dancing from the east, and leads with her
The flow'ry May, who from her green lap throws
The yellow cowslip and the pale primrose.

Hail, bounteous May, that dost inspire
Mirth, and youth, and warm desire;
Woods and groves are of thy dressing,
Hill and dale doth boast thy blessing.
Thus we salute thee with our early song,
And welcome thee, and wish thee long.

AIL, old patrician trees, so great and good! Hail, ye plebeian underwood!

Where the poetic birds rejoice,

And for their quiet nests and plenteous food Pay with their grateful voice.

ON SOLITUDE.

Hail, the poor Muse's richest manor-seat!

Ye country houses and retreat,

Which all the happy Gods so love,

That for you oft they quit their bright and great Metropolis above.

Here Nature does a house for me erect,

Nature the fairest architect,

Who those fond artists does despise

That can the fair and living trees neglect,

Yet the dead timber prize.

Here let me, careless and unthoughtful lying,

Hear the soft winds above me flying
With all their wanton boughs dispute,

And the more tuneful birds to both replying,
Nor be myself, too, mute.

A silver stream shall roll his waters near,
Gilt with the sunbeams here and there,
On whose enamelled bank I'll walk,
And see how prettily they smile,

And hear how prettily they talk.

Ah! wretched and too solitary he,

Who loves not his own company!

He'll feel the weight of it many a day,
Unless he call in Sin or Vanity

To help to bear it away.

O Solitude! first state of humankind!
Which blessed remained till man did find

Ev'n his own helper's company :

As soon as two, alas! together joined,

The serpent made up three.

Though GOD Himself, through countless ages, thee

His sole companion chose to be,

Thee, sacred Solitude, alone,

Before the branchy head of Number's tree

Sprang from the trunk of one ;

Thou, though men think thine an inactive part, Dost break and tame th' unruly heart,

Which else would know no settled pace,

Making it move, well managed by thy art,

With swiftness and with grace.

Thou, the faint beams of Reason's scattered light

Dost, like a burning-glass, unite,

Dost multiply the feeble heat,

And fortify the strength, till thou dost bright

And noble fires beget.