To Miſs Austen, the following Ode to Pityis dedicated, from a thorough knowledge of herpitiful Nature, by her obed:tobedient hum:lehumble Serv:tServant

The Author

Ode to Pity


Ever musing I delight to treadThe Paths of honour and the Myrtle Grove Whilst the pale Moon her beams doth shed oOn disappointed Love.While Philomel on airy hawthorn BushSings sweet & Melancholy, And the thrushConverses with the Dove.


Gently brawling down the turnpike road,Sweetly noisy falls the Silent StreamThe Moon emerges from behind a CloudAnd darts upon the Myrtle Grove her beam.Ah! then what Lovely Scenes appear,The hut, the Cot, the Grot, & Chapel queer,And eke the Abbey too a mouldering heap,Conceal’d by aged pines her head doth rearAnd quite invisible doth take a peep.
End of the first volume.June 3d 1793
Image for page: 180 of manuscript: blvolfirst