5 When howling winds, and beating rain, In tempests shake the sylvan cell; Or 'midst the chase on every plain,

The tender thought on thee shall dwell;

6 Each lonely scene shall thee restore,
For thee the tear be duly shed;
Beloved, till life can charm no more ;
And mourn'd, till Pity's self be dead.

VERSES

WRITTEN ON A PAPER WHICH CONTAINED A PIECE OF

BRIDECAKE GIVEN TO THE AUTHOR BY A LADY.

1 YE curious hands, that, hid from vulgar eyes,
By search profane shall find this hallow'd cake,
With virtue's awe forbear the sacred prize,
Nor dare a theft, for love and pity's sake!

2 This precious relic, form'd by magic power,

Beneath the shepherd's haunted pillow laid, Was meant by love to charm the silent hour, The secret present of a matchless maid.

3 The Cyprian queen, at Hymen's fond request, Each nice ingredient chose with happiest art; Fears, sighs, and wishes, of th' enamour'd breast, And pains that please, are mix'd in every part.

4 With rosy hand the spicy fruit she brought,

From Paphian hills, and fair Cythera's isle ; And temper'd sweet with these the melting thought, The kiss ambrosial, and the yielding smile.

5 Ambiguous looks, that scorn and yet relent, Denials mild, and firm unalter'd truth, Reluctant pride, and amorous faint consent,

And meeting ardours, and exulting youth.

6 Sleep, wayward god! hath sworn, while these remain, With flattering dreams to dry his nightly tear, And cheerful Hope, so oft invoked in vain,

With fairy songs shall soothe his pensive ear.

7 If, bound by vows to Friendship's gentle side,
And fond of soul, thou hopest an equal grace,
If youth or maid thy joys and griefs divide,
Oh, much entreated, leave this fatal place!

8 Sweet Peace, who long hath shunn'd my plaintive day,
Consents at length to bring me short delight,
Thy careless steps may scare her doves away,
And Grief with raven note usurp the night.

SONG,

THE SENTIMENTS BORROWED FROM SHAKSPEARE.

1 YOUNG Damon of the vale is dead,

Ye lowly hamlets, moan;

A dewy turf lies o'er his head,

And at his feet a stone.

2 His shroud, which Death's cold damps destroy, Of snow-white threads was made:

All mourn'd to see so sweet a boy
In earth for ever laid.

3 Pale pansies o'er his corpse were placed,
Which, pluck'd before their time,
Bestrew'd the boy, like him to waste
And wither in their prime.

4 But will he ne'er return, whose tongue
Could tune the rural lay?
Ah, no! his bell of peace is rung,
His lips are cold as clay.

5 They bore him out at twilight hour,
The youth who loved so well:

Ah me! how many a true-love shower
Of kind remembrance fell!

6 Each maid was woe-but Lucy chief,
Her grief o'er all was tried;
Within his grave she dropp'd in grief,
And o'er her loved one died.

TO MISS AURELIA C-R,

ON HER WEEPING AT HER SISTER'S WEDDING.

CEASE, fair Aurelia, cease to mourn,
Lament not Hannah's happy state;
You may be happy in your turn,
And seize the treasure you regret.
With Love united Hymen stands,
And softly whispers to your charms,
"Meet but your lover in my bands,
You'll find your sister in his arms."

SONNET.

WHEN Phoebe form'd a wanton smile,
My soul! it reach'd not here:

Strange, that thy peace, thou trembler, flies

Before a rising tear!

From 'midst the drops, my love is born,

That o'er those eyelids rove: Thus issued from a teeming wave The fabled queen of love.

END OF COLLINS' POEMS.

T. WARTON'S

POETICAL WORKS