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Enfeebled by the fcorching ray,
She flept the fultry hours away;
And when the op'd her languid eye,
Found her filver urn was dry.

Heedlefs stranger, who fo long
Haft liftened to an idle fong,
Whilft trifles thus thy notice share,

Haft thou no urn that afks thy care?

LADY CARLISLE's ANSWER to Mrs. Greville's Ode for Indifference.

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But then an ev'ning walk's the thing-
Not if you 're hot before-

The man who fweats when he fits still,
Will, when he moves, fweat more.

Well, now the fupper's come-and come
To make bad worfe, I wot;

For fupper, while it heats the cool,
Will never cool the hot.

And bed, which cheers the cold man's heart,

Helps not the hot a pin;

For he who fweats when out of bed,

Sweats ten times more when in.

MAD POLL; from Bloomfield's Farmer's Boy.

THE

HE pride of fuch a party, nature's pride,
Was lovely Poll; who innocently try'd,
With hat of airy fhape and ribbons gay,
Love to infpire, and ftand in Hymen's way:
But, 'ere her twentieth fummer could expand,
Or youth was render'd happy with her hand,
Her mind's ferenity was loft and gone,
Her eye grew languid, and the wept alone;
Yet caufelefs feem'd her grief; for quick reftrain'd,
Mirth follow'd loud, or indignation reign'd:
Whims wild and fimple led her from her home,
The heath, the common, or the fields to roam :
Terror and joy alternate rul'd her hours;
Now blithe fhe fung, and gather'd useless flow'rs;
Now pluck'd a tender twig from every bough,
To whip the hov'ring demons from her brow.
Ill-fated maid! thy guiding fpark is fled,
And lafting wretchedness waits round thy bed-
Thy bed of ftraw! for mark, where even now
O'er their loft child afflicted parents bow;
Their woe fhe knows not, but perversely coy,
Inverted cuftoms yield her fullen joy;
Her midnight meals in fecrefy fhe takes,
Low mutt'ring to the moon, that rifing breaks

Through night's dark gloom :-oh how much more forlorn
Her night, that knows of no returning dawn!
Slow from the threshold, once her infant feat,
O'er the cold earth she crawls to her retreat;

Quitting

Quitting the cot's warm walls in filth to lie,
Where the swine grunting yields up half his fty;
The damp night air her fhiv'ring limbs aflails;
In dreams fhe moans, and fancied wrongs bewails.
When morning wakes, none earlier rous'd than fhe,
When pendent drops fall glitt'ring from the tree;
But nought her raylefs melancholy cheers,
Or fooths her breaft, or ftops her streaming tears.
Her matted locks unornamented flow;

Clafping her knees, and waving to and fro ;-
Her head bow'd down, her faded cheek to hide ;-
A piteous mourner by the pathway fide,
Some tufted molehill through the livelong day
She calls her throne; there weeps her life away:
And oft the gaily paffing ftranger stays
His well-tim'd ftep, and takes a filent gaze,
Till fympathetic drops unbidden start,

And pangs quick fpringing mufter round his heart;
And foft he treads with other gazers round,

And fain would catch her forrow's plaintive found;
One word alone is all that strikes the ear,
One fhort, pathetic, fimple word," Oh dear!"
A thousand times repeated to the wind,
That wafts the figh, but leaves the pang behind!
For ever of the proffer'd parley fhy,
She hears th' unwelcome foot advancing nigh;
Nor quite unconscious of her wretched plight,
Gives one fad look, and hurries out of fight-

Fair promis'd funbeams of terreftrial bliss,
Health's gallant hopes, and are ye funk to this?
For in Life's road though thorns abundant grow,
There ftill are joys poor Poll can never know;
Joys which the gay companions of her prime
Sip, as they drift along the stream of time;
At eve to hear befide their tranquil home
The lifted latch, that fpeaks the lover come:
That love matur'd, next playful on the knee
To prefs the velvet lip of infancy;

To ftay the tottering ftep, the features trace ;-
Ineftimable sweets of focial peace!

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