L_.

La nymphe qui donne de cette eau
Au plus creux de rocher se cache,
Suivez un example si beau:
Donnez sans vouloir qu'on le sache.

_TRANSLATION_.

The nymph, to whom this stream you owe,
Conceals herself in caves of stone:
Like her your benefits bestow;
Give, without wishing to be known.

LINES

UPON MADEMOISELLE DELPHINE SAULOT

_Singing some equisite Airs_

IN THE GARDENS OF MOUSSEAU, NEAR PARIS.

In Mousseau's sweet Arcadian dale
Fair Delphine pours the plaintive strain;
She charms the list'ning nightingale,
And seems th' enchantress of the plain.

Bless'd be those lips, to music dear;
Sweet songstress! never may they move
But with such sounds, to soothe the ear,
And melt the yielding heart to love.

May sorrow never bid them pour
From the torn heart one suff'ring sigh;
But be thy life a fragrant flow'r,
Blooming beneath a cloudless sky!

IMPROMPTU TO MADAME C----

WRITTEN AT PARIS,

Upon her appearing equally modestly and elegantly dressed, amidst the
Semi-Nakedness of the Rest of the Female Fashionables.

Whilst, in a dress that one might swear
The whole was made of woven air,
Pert Fashion spreads her senseless sway
Over the giddy and the gay
(Who think, by showing all their charms,
Lovers will fly into their arms),
In thee shall Wit and Virtue find
A friend more genial to their mind;
And Modesty shall gain in thee
A surer, chaster, victory.

SONNET

UPON A SWEDISH COTTAGE,

_Written on the Road_,

WITHIN A FEW MILES OF STOCKHOLM.

Here, far from all the pomp Ambition seeks,
Much sought, but only whilst untasted prais'd,
Content and Innocence, with rosy cheeks,
Enjoy the simple shed their hands have rais'd.

On a gray rock it stands, whose fretted base
The distant cat'ract's murm'ring waters lave,
Whilst o'er its mossy roof, with varying grace,
The slender branches of the white birch wave.

Around the forest-fir is heard to sigh,
On which the pensive ear delights to dwell,
Whilst, as the gazing trav'ller passes by,
The gray goat, starting, sounds his tinkling bell.
Oh! in my native land, ere life's decline,
May such a spot, so wild, so sweet, be mine!

LINES

TO THE MEMORY OF MRS. B----

Ah, stranger! if thy pilgrim footsteps love,
By meditation led, to wander here,
A suff'ring husband may thy pity move,
Who weeps the loss of all his soul holds dear!

Cold as this mourning marble is that heart,