[12] Alfred. Regis Romani. V. Virg. Æn. 6.
[13] ----------------------------Ad Capitolia ducit Aurea nunc, olim sylvestribus horrida dumis. VIRG. ÆN.
Let others boast their heaps of shining gold, And view their fields with waving plenty crown'd, Whom neigb'ring foes in constant terror hold, And trumpets break their slumbers, never found.
While calmly poor, I trifle life away, Enjoy sweet leisure by my chearful fire, No wanton hope my quiet shall betray, But cheaply bless'd, I'll scorn each vain desire.
With timely care I'll sow my little field, And plant my orchard with it's master's hand, Nor blush to spread the hay, the hook to wield, Or range the sheaves along the sunny land.
If late at dusk, while carelessly I roam, I meet a strolling kid, or bleating lamb, Under my arm I'll bring the wand'rer home, And not a little chide it's thoughtless dam.
What joy to hear the tempest howl in vain, And clasp a fearful mistress to my breast? Or lull'd to slumber by the beating rain, Secure and happy sink at last to rest.
Or if the sun in flaming Leo ride, By shady rivers indolently stray, And with my DELIA walking side by side, Hear how they murmur, as they glide away.
What joy to wind along the cool retreat, To stop and gaze on DELIA as I go! To mingle sweet discourse with kisses sweet, And teach my lovely scholar all I know!
Thus pleas'd at heart, and not with fancy's dream, In silent happiness I rest unknown; Content with what I am, not what I seem, I live for DELIA, and myself alone.
Ah foolish man! who thus of her possest, Could float and wander with ambition's wind, And if his outward trappings spoke him blest, Not heed the sickness of his conscious mind.
With her I scorn the idle breath of praise, Nor trust to happiness that's not our own, The smile of fortune might suspicion raise, But here, I know, that I am lov'd alone.
STANHOPE, in wisdom, as in wit divine, May rise, and plead Britannia's glorious cause, With steady rein his eager wit confine, While manly sense the deep attention draws:
Let STANHOPE speak his list'ning country's wrong, My humble voice shall please one partial maid, For her alone, I pen my tender song, Securely sitting in his friendly shade.
STANHOPE shall come, and grace his rural friend, DELIA shall wonder at her noble guest, With blushing awe the riper fruit commend, And for her husband's Patron cull the best.