Whose downcast eye disdains the wanton leer,
Firm in her virtue's strength, yet not severe;
She, whom a conscious grace shall thus refine,
Will ne'er be "tainted" by a strain of mine.
But, for the nymph whose premature desires
Torment her bosom with unholy fires,
No net to snare her willing heart is spread;
She would have fallen, though she ne'er had read.
For me, I fain would please the chosen few,
Whose souls, to feeling and to nature true,
Will spare the childish verse, and not destroy
The light effusions of a heedless boy.[1]
I seek not glory from the senseless crowd;
Of fancied laurels, I shall ne'er be proud;
Their warmest plaudits I would scarcely prize,
Their sneers or censures, I alike despise.
ELEGY ON NEWSTEAD ABBEY.[2]
"It is the voice of years, that are gone! they roll before me, with all their deeds."—Ossian.[3]
- ↑ The light effusions of an amorous boy.—[P. on V. Occasions.]
- ↑ As one poem on this subject is already printed, the author had, originally, no intention of inserting the following. It is now added at the particular request of some friends.
- ↑ Hours of Idleness.
- ↑ Henry II. founded Newstead soon after the murder of Thomas à Becket.
