LINES WRITTEN IN WINDSOR FOREST.

All hail, once pleasing, once inspiring shade, Scene of my youthful loves, and happier hours! Where the kind Muses met me as I stray'd, And gently press'd my hand, and said, 'Be ours!— Take all thou e'er shalt have, a constant Muse: At Court thou mayst be liked, but nothing gain; Stocks thou mayst buy and sell, but always lose; And love the brightest eyes, but love in vain.'