Through half her teens, e'en from her birth,
All humour, comedy and mirth,
Of fun and whim the very soul,
While true good-nature marks the whole,
Wherever novelty invites,
Or expectation paints delights;
With health, and life, and spirits high,
Wild as the winds see Julia fly!
Old are is lagging far behind her;
O may the hell-hound never find her!
Name but a scheme — she must partake it,
A pastime or a jest to make it.
Hark! sportsmen shout, she scampers after,
To share their pleasures or their laughter.
But unexpected objects rise!
She hears the crowd's triumphant cries;
Concludes some savage beast is chas'd,
Whose rapine laid the country waste;
When faint with fever and despair,
Staggers in view a harmless hare;
Astonish'd, shock'd, her steed she stops,
Close at his foot the victim drops.
— That infant scream! the fell whoo whoop!
She feels her native spirits droop!
She who was never grave before,
But to make others laugh the more.
— On Kedleston's high-polish'd lawn,
Where Taste her richest strokes has drawn;
At feed or play on eve serene,
This gentle race she oft had seen,
And wish'd that no well-grounded fear
Oft as they startled might come near.
Indignant now she points her pen,
To urge their plea with savage men;
And pours a strain so sweet, so strong,
(For Innocence inspires her song,
Humanity and warmth of heart,
And Pity do the Muse's part,)
That thoughts so elegantly drest,
Win on the most obdurate breast;
And Truth, whose consecrated charm
Can giant Prejudice disarm,
Drags the fiend Cruelty so full to view,
That hunters blush and courteous coursers too.
