An Irregular ODE written at Wickham, in 1746. 

To the Same. 

I.

YE sylvan scenes with artless beauty gay,
Ye gentle shades of Wickham say,
What is the charm that each successive year,
Which sees me with my LUCY here,
Can thus to my transported heart,
A sense of joy unfelt before impart?

II.

Is it glad Summer's balmy breath that blows
From the fair jess'mine, and the blushing rose?
Her balmy breath, and all her blooming store,
Of rural bliss was here before:
Oft have I met her on the verdant side
Of Norwood-hill, and in the yellow meads,
Where Pan the dancing Graces leads,
Array'd in all her flow'ry pride.
No sweeter fragrance now the gardens yield,
No brighter colours paint th' enamel'd field.

III.

Is it to Love these new delights I owe?
Four times has the revolving sun
His annual circle thro' the zodiac run;
Since all that Love's indulgent pow'r
On favour'd mortals can bestow,
Was giv'n to me in this auspicious bow'r.

IV.

Here first my LUCY, sweet in virgin charms,
Was yielded to my longing arms;
And round our nuptial bed,
Hov'ring with purple wings, th' Idalian boy
Shook from his radiant torch the blissful fires
Of innocent desires,
While Venus scatter'd myrtles o'er her head.
Whence then this strange increase of joy?
He, only he can tell, who match'd like me,
(If such another happy man there be)
Has by his own experience try'd
How much the Wife is dearer than the Bride.