Upon an ALCOVE, now at PARSON'S Green.

O Favorite Muse of SHENSTONE hear!
And leave awhile his blissful groves;
Aid me this sweet alcove to sing,
The Author's seat whom SHENSTONE loves.

Here the soul-harr'wing genius form'd
His PAMELA'S enchanting story!
And here divine CLARISSA died
A martyr to our sex's glory!

'Twas here the noble-minded Howe
With ev'ry gen'rous passion glow'd:
And here the gentle Belford's eyes
With manly sorrows overflow'd.

Here Clementina, hapless maid!
With wild distress each bosom tears:
And here the lovely Harriet own'd
A virgin's hopes, a virgin's fears.

Here Emily, sweet artless girl,
Fills ev'ry breast with strange delight!
And when we fear her early fall,
Secures her conquest by her flight.

Here sprightly Charlotte's hum'rous wit
Dispenses mirth to all around:
But, ah! we tremble, whilst we smile,
Lest its fine edge herself should wound.

Here GRANDISON, to crown the whole,
A bright exemplar stands confest!
Who stole those virtues we admire
From the great Author's glowing breast.

O sacred seat! be thou rever'd
By such as own thy master's pow'r;
And, like his works, for ages last,
Till fame and language are no more.