To MIRA. Inviting her to a RETREAT in the COUNTRY. Charlotte Lennox (née Ramsay) Alexander Huber Editor Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford
Broad Street Oxford OX1 3BG UK
Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive
Taylor Institution Library St Giles' Oxford OX1 3NA UK info@eighteenthcenturypoetry.org https://www.eighteenthcenturypoetry.org/
Oxford This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. T139692 K110146.000 Lennox, Charlotte, ca. 1729-1804. Poems on Several Occasions. Written by a Young Lady. London printed for, and sold by S. Paterson 1747 pp. 67-71. [8],88p.; 8⁰.

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To MIRA . Inviting her to a RETREAT in the COUNTRY . NOW Spring returning decks the Year With all that's lovely , all that's fair ; The Fields in lively Green array'd , With deeper Glooms the silent Shade ; Soft descends the gentle show'rs , And wakes to Life the springing Flow'rs ; Hence ambrosial Sweets exhale , And various Colours paint the Vale ; Refreshing Airs the Zephyrs blow , The Streams with pleasing Murmurs flow ; While nightly 'midst the silent Plain Thy fav'rite Bird renews her Strain , Come then , my Mira , come and share My Joys , and breath a purer Air . Together let us range the Plains , Amongst the rustick Nymphs and Swains ; In rural Dress , devoid of Cure , Give to the Winds our flowing Hair , And round the Meadows gayly roam , For Youth does sober Mirth become . Now straining up you airy Height , We'll entertain the wand'ring Sight , With flow'ry Fields , and waving Woods , Hills and Dales , and falling Floods : Or to relieve the searching Eyes , See distant Spires and Temples rise . Come now , my Mira , let us rove Together thro' the mazy Grove ; Here , while with gentle Pace we walk , Beguile the Time with pleasing Talk : Here show thy melting Eloquence , Thy sprightly Wit , thy manly Sense ; Thy virtuous Notions void of Art , And while you charm , correct the Heart . Or now together careless laid , Beneath a Cypress spreading Shade , Our Thoughts to heavenly Numbers raise , Repeating Pope's harmonious Lays , Now Homer's awful Leaves turn o'er , Or graver History explore ; Or study Plato's sacred Page , Uncommon to our Sex and Age . Now wand'ring by the Moon's pale Light , Amidst the silent Shades of Night , Where on the late deserted Plains A pleasing Melancholy reigns ; Softly thro' the rustling Trees Sobs the sweetly dying Breeze ; The Echo's catch the plaintive Sound , And gentle Murmurs breathe around . Now sing , my Friend , and let thy Strain Recount the Arts of faithless Man : Thy Notes , sweet Philomel , shall join , And mix her soft Complaints with thine . But raise , my Mira , raise thy Song , To Friendship nobler Strains belong . Oh sing its tender chaste Desires , Its equal , pure , and lasting Fires ! Such as in thy Bosom burns , Such as my fond Soul returns . Friendship is but Love refin'd , Not weakens , but exalts the Mind ; And when its sacred Power we prove , We guess how heavenly Spirits love .