TO HEALTH.

NYMPH of the splendent eye and rosy cheek,
Who erst from courts and luxury didst speed,
And with thine elder sister, Temperance, seek

The woodbin'd cottage on the daisied mead;
There will I woo thee, for thou dwellest there
Amid the sons of Industry; thy smile

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?-
It wore methought an hoary Druid's form,
Musing on ancient days: the dying storm
Moan'd in his lifted locks: thou, Night! the while
Dost listen to his sad harp's wild complaint,
Mother of shadows! as to thee he pours
The broken strain, and plaintively deplores
The fall of druid-fame. Hark! murmurs faint
Breathe on the wavy air: and now more loud
Swells the deep dirge accustom'd to complain
Of holy rites unpaid, and of the crowd

Whose careless steps these sacred haunts profane.
O'er the wild plain the hurrying tempest flies,
And, mid the storm unheard, the song of sorrow

dies.

THE cloudy blackness gathers o'er the sky, Shadowing these realms with that portentous

storm

Ere long to burst, and haply to deform
Fair Nature's face: for indignation high

Might hurl promiscuous vengeance with wild hand,
And Fear, with fierce precipitation, throw
Blind ruin wide: while Hate, with scowling brow,
Feigns patriot rage. O Priestley! for thy wand,
Or, Franklin! thine; with calm expectant joy

To tame the storm, and with mysterious force
In viewless channel shape the lightning's course,
To purify creation, not destroy.

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.