FETE CHAMPETRE.

LXXIII.

SIR W. JONES.

FAIR Tivy, how sweet are thy waves gently flowing,

Thy wild oaken woods, and green eglantine bow'rs, Thy banks with the blush-rose and amaranth glowing, While friendship and mirth claim these labourless hours! Yet weak is our vaunt, while something we want,

More sweet than the pleasure which prospects can give: Come, smile, damsels of Cardigan,

Love can alone make it blissful to live.

How sweet is the odour of jasʼmine and roses,

That Zephyr around us so lavishly flings!

Perhaps for Bleanpant fresh perfume he composes,
Or tidings from Bronwith auspiciously brings;

Yet weak is our vaunt, while something we want,
More sweet than the pleasure which odours can give :
Come, smile, damsels of Cardigan,

Love can alone make it blissful to live.

How sweet was the strain that enliven❜d the spirit,
And cheer'd us with numbers so frolic and free!

The poet is absent: be just to his merit;

Ah may he in love be more happy than we!

For weak is our vaunt, while something we want,

More sweet than the pleasure the muses can give: Come, smile, damsels of Cardigan,

Love can alone make it blissful to live.

How gay is the circle of friends round a table,
Where stately Kilgarran o'erhangs the brown dale;

Line 1st, Bleanpant, the seat of W. Brigstocke, Esq.
Line 2d, Bronwith, the seat of Thomas Lloyd, Esq.
Line 16th, Kilgarran, a ruinous castle on the Tivy.

Where none are unwilling, and few are unable,

To sing a wild song, or repeat a wild tale!

Yet weak is our vaunt, while something we want,
More sweet than the pleasure that friendship can give:
Come, smile, damsels of Cardigan,

Love can alone make it blissful to live.

No longer then pore over dark gothic pages,

To cull a rude gibberish from Neatheam or Brooke ; Leave year-books and parchments to grey-bearded sages; Be nature and love, and fair woman, our book!

For weak is our vaunt, while something we want,
More sweet than the pleasure that learning can give :
Come, smile, damsels of Cardigan,

Love can alone make it blissful to live.

Admit that our labours were crown'd with full measure,
And gold were the fruit of rhetorical flow'rs,

That India supplied us with long-hoarded treasure,
That Dinevor, Slebeck, and Coidsmore were ours;

18th, Dinevor, seat of Lord Dinevor.

Slebeck, seat of Mr Philips.

Coidsmore, seat of Mr Lloyd, near Cardigan.

Yet weak is our vaunt, while something we want,

More sweet than the pleasure that riches can give : Come, smile, damsels of Cardigan,

Love can alone make it blissful to live.

Or say, that, preferring fair Thames to fair Tivy,
We gain'd the bright ermine robes, purple and red;
And peep'd thro' long perukes, like owlets thro' ivy,
say, that bright coronets blaz❜d on our head;
Yet weak is our vaunt, while something we want,

Or

More sweet than the pleasure that honours can give :

Come, smile, damsels of Cardigan,

Love can alone make it blissful to live.

LXXIV.

HUNTING SONG.

ANONYMOUS.

WAKEN lords and ladies gay,

On the mountain dawns the day,

All the jolly chace is here,

With hawk and horse, and hunting spear;

Hounds are in their couples yelling,

Hawks are whistling, horns are knelling,

Merrily, merrily, mingle they,

"Waken lords and ladies gay."

Waken lords and ladies gay,

The mist has left the mountain gray,