TO HEALTH. NYMPH of the splendent eye and rosy cheek, The woodbin'd cottage on the daisied mead; Soothes every sorrow, cheers the hour of toil, And, bless'd by thee, sweet is their frugal fare. When the woods echo with the early horn Thou trip'st the wild heath, clad in flowing vest, (While youthful zephyr wantons o'er thy breast) And, with blithe song, dost greet the blushing morn; The airy sprite, who o'er thy fair form roves, Thy beauty tastes, and as he tastes, improves. STONEHENGE. Was it a spirit on yon shapeless pile?- Whose careless steps these sacred haunts profane. dies. THE cloudy blackness gathers o'er the sky, Shadowing these realms with that portentous storm Ere long to burst, and haply to deform Might hurl promiscuous vengeance with wild hand, To tame the storm, and with mysterious force So should fair order from the tempest rise, And freedom's sunbeams gild unclouded skies. EDWARD LOVIBOND. EDWARD LOVIBOND was a gentleman of fortune, who lived at Hampton, in Middlesex, where he chiefly amused himself with the occupations of rural economy. According to the information of Mr. Chalmers, he was a director of the East India Company. He assisted Moore in his periodical paper called the "World," to which he contributed "The Tears of Old May-Day," and four other papers. He died in 1775. |