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SONNET to the Earl of Holdernesse

Museus: a Monody to the Memory of Mr. Pope

1 To Memory

2 To a Water-Nymph

ODES.

3 On leaving St. John's College, Cambridge

4 On expecting to return to Cambridge

SONNETS.

1 To a young Lady, with Dodsley's Poems

2 To a Friend, on his Marriage

3 Written in August, 1773

4 Prefixed to Caractacus, when altered for the Stage 61

69

70

71

68

9 To the Bishop of Worcester, sent with the preceding 67

10 On a late Attack on the present Taste of English

11 To a Gravel Walk. Relative to the preceding subject ib.

12 On a Didactic Poem on the Progress of Civil Society

ΤΟ

ROBERT EARL OF HOLDERNESSE,

BARON D'ARCY, MENIL AND CONYERS,

Lord Warden of his Majesty's Cinque Ports, and Governor of Dover Castle.

SONNET.

D'ARCY, to thee, whate'er of happier vein,
Smit with the love of song, my youth essay
This verse devotes from ASTON's secret shade,
Where letter'd Ease, thy gift, endears the scene.
Here, as the light-wing'd moments glide serene,
I weave the bower, around the tufted mead
In careless flow the simple pathway lead,
And strew with many a rose the shaven green.
So, to deceive my solitary days,

With rural toils ingenuous arts I blend,
Secure from envy, negligent of praise,

Yet not unknown to fame, if D'ARCY lend
His wonted smile to dignify my lays,
The Muse's patron, but the Poet's friend.

May 12, 1763.

W. MASON.

MINOR POEMS.

PART I.

MUSÆUS:

A MONODY:

TO THE MEMORY OF MR. POPE.

In imitation of Milton's Lycidas.

SORROWING I catch the reed, and call the Muse;
If yet a Muse on Britain's plain abide,

Since rapt Musæus tuned his parting strain :
With him they lived, with him, perchance, they died.
For who e'er since their virgin charms espied,
Or on the banks of Thames, or met their train,
Where Isis sparkles to the sunny ray?
Or have they deign'd to play,

Where Camus winds along his broider'd vale,
Feeding each blue-bell pale, and daisie pied,
That fling their fragrance round his rushy side?
Yet ah! ye are not dead, celestial maids;
Immortal as ye are, ye may not die :

Nor is it meet ye fly these pensive glades,
Ere round his laureat hearse ye heave the sigh.
Stay then awhile, oh stay, ye fleeting fair;
Revisit yet, nor hallow'd Hippocrene,

Nor Thespia's grove; till with harmonious teen
Ye soothe his shade, and slowly-dittied air.
Such tribute pour'd, again ye may repair

PART I.

B

To what loved haunt ye whilom did elect;
Whether Lycæus, or that mountain fair,
Trim Mænalus, with piny verdure deck'd.
But now it boots ye not in these to stray,
Or yet Cyllene's hoary shade to choose,
Or where mild Ladon's swelling waters play.
Forego each vain excuse,

And haste to Thames's shores; for Thames shall join
Our sad society, and passing mourn,

The tears fast-trickling o'er his silver urn.
And, when the poet's widow'd grot he laves,
His reed-crown'd locks shall shake, his head shall
bow,

His tide no more in eddies blithe shall rove,
But creep soft by with long-drawn murmurs slow.
For oft the mighty master roused his waves
With martial notes, or lull'd with strain of love:
He must not now in brisk meanders flow
Gamesome, and kiss the sadly-silent shore,
Without the loan of some poetic woe.
Say first, Sicilian Muse,

For, with thy sisters, thou didst weeping stand
In silent circle at the solemn scene,

When Death approach'd, and waved his ebon wand,
Say how each laurel droop'd its withering green?
How, in yon grot, each silver-trickling spring
Wander'd the shelly channels all among;
While as the coral roof did softly ring
Responsive to their sweetly-doleful song.
Meanwhile all pale the expiring poet laid,
And sunk his awful head,

While vocal shadows pleasing dreams prolong;

For so, his sickening spirits to release,

They pour'd the balm of visionary peace.