A pastoral ballad in seven anapestic quatrains signed "J. Langford." Revelling "with Shenstone's gay verse," the poet compares his garden to his lover: "The fragrance that gracefully breathes, | The sun-shine that gilds my small cot, | Fills my bosom with joy — and it heaves, | Since to Phoebe I owe the sweet spot." This writer, not identified, contributed several poems to the New Lady's Magazine.
As round my sweet garden I rove,
And revel with Shenstone's gay verse,
I feel the calm glowings of love,
And strive Phoebus' charms to rehearse.
I pause at the rose's gay form,
'Tis beauty and innocence join'd;
No spots the chaste lily deform,
For virtue in her is combin'd;
No flow'ret that decks the gay scene,
The jess'mine or hyacinth sweet,
But unite in pourtraying her mien,
So elegant, beauteous, and neat.
The fragrance that gracefully breathes,
The sun-shine that gilds my small cot,
Fills my bosom with joy — and it heaves,
Since to Phoebe I owe the sweet spot.
The choir in the grove now begin,
To chear with new charms the glad scene;
Oh haste thee then, Phoebe, and sing,
Sigh out thy harmonious strain.
With murmurs so charming then bless,
Oh! bless the fond youth who does rove,
Thy fond partial bosom to press,
And breathe out soft accents of love.
Reclin'd in yon shady alcove,
Thy converse my murmurs will glad;
Thy song and thy thoughts interwove,
Thy swain will make happy — now sad.