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Reft that, howe'er, as 'twill-can I bc-long ye, 'Tis the same, who the place in the Memoirs has So as to get a little cash among ye ;

boughtThis week, by carrier Haswel, you may send it, Say you fo, cries Apollo, and is he so vain ? And, may the gods that guard the roads defend it! Yet pshaw; 'tis the only place that he can gain. With that inspir’d, a gorgeous sword I'll buy me, The bard now clate with ambition appear'd, And, plum'd' with hopes, to good Sir Robert Propos'd his pretence, and desir'd to be heard; hie me.

When Apollo straight bid him his labours produce, Present myself with this new-modell'd trifle, And, for his authority, bring him his muse. Which, should he chance to like, I'll lay my life, More hafty, than wisely, the labours were shown, he'll

But, alas : for the muse, the fly gipsy was flown, Make every wish, a bard can frame, succeed, For her birth it was mortal, nor could ber fciga'd And then my muse, and I, are made indeed! [me,

power But stay-One word forgoc-with love commend Stand the test of the godhead she mimick'd before; To all such honest fellows as befriend me

O'eraw'd by the deity no longer could stay, With their subscriptions—But I cannot on But, like Spenser's false Florimel, faded away! For rhyme—And so excuse your Pattison.

De Vlin the tumult ran bawling aloud, P. S. Septemb. the twenty-fifth, or twenty-lixth And swore that he ought to be heard by the god, As to my lodging, for a date, t'en't fix'd.

And heard too he was, for the god cut him short,

And ask'd what pretensions could draw him to N. B. For memorandum, you may put once

court ! More, your direction to your friend, at Button's.

What pretension! cries he ; but the godhead replies,

Before you are witty, pray learn to be wise, A SESSION OF THE CAMBRIDGE POETS. And if, as they say, you are lunatic grown,

For I hear you converse with my lifter the moon, By a vacant preserment Apollo thought fit

In secret confinement, a purge or two try, To settle the bays, and establish a wit,

And let your own eslay bum-fodder Supply. For his trusty friend Koche, by much merit and

Next Ch-y rollid onward, a bard of renowa, grace, Had obtain'd in Elysium the lauréat's place;

For bulk and bombast super-eminent grown, Accordingly, to the fam'd borders of Cam, of lampoons and Pindarics huge bundles be Descended the god, with a goddess hight fame,

brought, The figure Me wore, as Dan Virgil declares,

But the burden was light, because barren of thought, Was illumin'd with eyes, and becluster'd with ears, Detraction his pleasure, ambition his aim.

From railing at friends, falsely smiling he came, (And faith, as you'll find, she had of them all, To pick one good poet, and hear ev'ry call,)

But Apollo soon knew him, notwithstanding all art, A trumpet she blew, for a trumpet the bore,

For your gods, at first sight, can discover the heart. As the laudable custom informs us of yore.

And told him, that pride, and inhuman backbitings

, Thick as becs, when they swarm to the tinkling Ay, I fee, cries the god, I see your excuse lines

Were the worlt of all evils.—except his own writ. The bards flock around her, and darken the place; I suppose that it's term’d, by you mortals hereuben

But hang it, that's nothing in shape of a mufe!-Each pretender, for such was Apollo's command,

tire, Brought his works, and conducted his muse in his hand :

But we gods have thought fit to became it ill-saBut, good Lord : how his goddhip at first was

Besides such a bulk, for high fights was re'er amaz'd,

made wellTo find the chaste nine to such numbers were

And I mortally hate the remembrance of Shadwel. rais'd ?

Little R-th took the hint, and righe arckly However, to banish immodest suspicions,

declar'd, He order'd a silence, and heard the petitions. That if body diminutive distinguish'd the bard, B-! * first, as the candidates joftled along,

Then his cause it was just, – but to humour the joke, With a gate most affected, emerg'd from the With an affable air, thus the deity spoke : throng.

And told him, he could not heroics right suit, Apollo obferv'd somewhat odd in his look,

For his body, at full length, was scarce more than And, giving a beck, thus the goddess bespoke :

one foot. Pr'thee, what's that same fellow ? Sume half-wit Ho, Ward! cries the god, as he saw him stand by

, ed beau ?

Come forward a little, and don't be so thyI don't know as ever I've seen him till now I know you arc modelt; but harkęe between us Nor can I renc nber, I think, replies Fame, Here, look ye this token, 'twas sent you by Venus To have heard of his worth, or so much as his name: For her ladyship told me, some few days ago, Buc odds, I will lay, by those papers there brought, she came down in the form of a nymph † that yoo

koow, * A junior bacbelor of Trinity-College, wbo, in e translation of a poem printed in the University, et bis * It is credibly reported, that be gave a certain for own colt

, impertinently begged pardon for tbe werd emer for the mention of his performance in the memuiva ! ged in its proper fenfe.

literaturi.

Mrs.

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fire to

eyes!

And, pleas'd with a copy or two of your verses, And to conceive what I would say to thee, Presents you this myrtle—'twas wreath'd by Conceive, my love, what thou would't say to me! the graces

As in the tenderness of foul I figh, Here, take't,-'tis as good as my laureat's

Methinks I hear thy tender soul reply; place is.

And as in thought, o'er heaps of heroes slain, Hulfe next he beheld with poetical rage, I trace thy progress on the fatal plain, And told him, 'was picy he was not at age; Perhaps thy thought explores me through the Nor mind, cries the god, those dull fools, chat de

grove,

And, soft'ning, steals an interval of love. Eclipse that bright merit--they ne'er can aspire to ; In the deep covert of a bow'ring shade Just so, in a morning, I fee, as I rise

Describes my posture, languishingly laid ! Black fogs, and dull vapours usurping my kies Now, sadly folac'd with the murm’ring springs, But two dramatists here, the merc scum of the Now, melting into cears, the softest things! gang,

And how the feign'd ideas all agree! Broke the limile short, and began to harangue; So bowers the shade, so melt my tears for thee! Pour ads of a play, cries the one I have writ, Here, as in Eden, once we blissful lay: And had I a plot, then the work were complete ; How oft night stole, unheeded, on the day! My characters--go, cries the god, scribbling elf, Our soft-breath'd raptures charm'd the listening And learn first to get thee a good one thyself.

grove, As Pattison stood unconcern'd in the crowd,

And all was harmony, for all was love! Apollo beheld him, and call'd him aloud;

But hark' the trumpet sounds: see discords Declaring his manners, though perhaps not his wit, rise! His identical self to a nicety hit;

'Tis honour calls; from me my Henry flies! Alike their employments, alike their delight, Honour, to him, more bright than Rosamonda's Both rambled all day, and both tippled all night ; Both us'd the same haunts, both pursu'd the like Not thus my honour with his passion strove, game,

His fighs I pity, and indulg'd his love :
And Laura and Thetis but differ'd in name. He then cry'd, honour was an empty name,
Now the bard, without doubt, the reason acquir’d, And love a sweeter recompence than fame.
But Woman and Fate, both against him conspir'd, Oh! had I liv'd in some obscure retreat,
For, unhappily ! just as he drew up more nigh,

Securely fair, and innocently sweet;
A pretty tight damfel came tripping it by; How had I bless'd some humble thepherd's arms!
No longer the laurel attracted his eyes,

How kept my fame as spotless as my charms ! They were fix'd on a far more delirable prize Then, hadit thou ne'er beheld these eyes of mine, His highness he thank’d; but resigning his lays,

Nor they bewail'd the fatal power of thine ! Declar'd, that a nymph was far better than bays.

Dear fatal power! to me for ever deas--Apollo now, tir’d with debates and confusion, Fix'd in my tender breast, and rooted there! Was glad to draw his affairs to conclusion, For ever in my tender breast remain--And, lick at the numbers still swarming around, And be for ever a delightful pain! Thrice Tayr he callid, but no Tayr was found :

With wkat surprise those glories first I view'd, Not here? (cries the god) oh! I guess at his stay

That in one moment my whole heart subdu'd! He fole a few poems of mine t'other day --

With such refiftless beams, so fierce they shone, But, however, i forgive him the cunning device,

Not such the dazzling radiance of thy crown: And, since his are my labours, be his too my prize.

Sent from thy crown I never felt a dart;
The lover, not the monarch, won my heart :

Nore'er the monarch with such charms appears,
ROSAMOND TO HENRY:

As when the lovers soften'd dress he wears :
As when he, silent, deigns my breast to seek,

And looks such language, as no tongue can speak.
Qualis populeâ marens Philomela sub Umbra Whene'er my crimes (if love a crime can be,
Flet Noaem ramoque fedens, miserabile Carmen If 'tis a crime to live, and die for thee!)
Integrat, et mæstis latè Loca Questibus implet. In hideous forms arise, and cloud iny soul,

VIRG. Georg. One thought on Henry can that gloom controul :

No more my breast alternate passions move, From these lope shades, and ever-gloomy bowers, The frosts of honour melt before the fires of love. Once the dear shade of Henry's softer hours ! What cender strains of passion can impart

Again, I must repeat that fatal hour, [bower ; The pangs of absence to an amorous heart!

Which snatch'd my Henry from his Woodftock Far, far too faint the powers of larguage prove,

When mad Bellona, with tumult'ous cries, Language that flow interpreter of love!

The hero rous'd, and drown'd the lover's lighs. Souls pair'a like ours, like ours to union wrought,

Stretch'd on my downy couch, at ease I lay, Converse by silent sympathy of thought;

And sought by reading to beguile the day: o then, by that mysterious art, divine

With am'rous strains I footh'd a grateful fire,

And all the woman glow'd with soft defire. She wild impacience of my breaf, by thing

1725-6.

AN EPISTLE.

Till, as I wish'd, I heard the vocal breeze, Alas! no lovely Henry now is nigh!
Proclaim my Henry rustling through the trees; His genius took his form to soothe my eyes
O'erjoy'd, I ran to meet thy longing arms, No more I feem his melting voice to hear!
And taste a dear remembrance of thy charms; Peace: babliog fountains : nor abuse my ear.
But soon I saw some sad conceal'd surprise, Ye flowers ! ye streams ! ye gales, no longer move!
Fade on thy cheeks, and languish on thy eyes; For ah! how strong is fancy, join'd with love!
Through each difsembled smile, a sorrow itole,

O! frail inconstancy of mortal date!
And whisper'd out the secret of thy soul.

One hour dejected, and the next elate! What this could mean, uncertain to divine.

Rais'd by false hopes, or by false fears deprest, No fault I knew, yet fear'd some fault was mine.

How different passions sway the human breast! But soon thy love dispell'd those airy fears, Now smiling pleasures, with fair charms, invite, Dispell'd alas !--- but brought too solid cares.

Now frowning horrors, with black trains, affright. For as with hands, entwind in hands, we walk'd,

Future diftrufts the present joys controul,
Of love, and hapless lovers, still thou talk'd :

And fancy triumphs o'er the reas'ning foul.
Thy tears of pity answer'd each sad moan,
And in their seeming mis’ries, wept thy own.

As mid the trees I solitary rove, “ I cannot leave her!"---I o'erheard thee say,--

The trees awake some image of my love : Tierc'd to the soul, I sunk, and dy'd away.

Where'er their arms in am'rous foldings join, What art restor'd me, thou alone can't tell,

My longing arms I spread to fold in chine. For thy kind arms embrac'd me, as I fell.

The beauteous flow'rs thy face reflected bear, My opening eyes, fix'd on thy beauties, hung,

(If flow'rs in beauty may with the compare), And my ears drunk the cordial of thy tongue.

Their wafted fragrancies thy breath inspire, Again my thoughts return with killing pain,

And my soul kindles with ideal fire ! Within thy arms I sink and swoon again :

The thick-weav'd shades, and grove encircling Again thou doft my sweet physician prove,

grove, From death to life alternately I move,

Are emblembs of th' eternity of love, Now dead by anguish, now reviv'd by love.

My blushing guilt the crimson roses paint, But when, without disguise, truth I found,

And I, like roses, unsupported faint : My agonizing forrows knew no bound:

Like their's my youthful charms (if charms) conMy locks I tore, then, all cntranc'd, 1 lay,

sume, Till by degrees my grief to words gave way,

For love, a closer canker, eats my bloom. And fost I cry'd,---Oh! stay, my Henry, stay.

How blest might other nymphs survey these One moment more! add yet, and yet, a kiss !--

scenes, Oh! give me thine, and take my soul in this ! Fountains and Mades, and hills, and flow'ry greens? Farewell ! ---perhaps, farewell for ever!---oh! Prospects on prospects, might detain the light, Who can suitain so dire a weight of woe? And Itill variety give new delight. Ah, wretched mail! alas, a maid no more !

But, I with thee, should find in deserts ease; No herbs that spotless title can restore !

Without thee, not even Paradife could please. Ah, who shall now protect thy injur'd fame?

Wilds, by thy presence, gardens would appear, Who shield thy weakness from th' affaults of Gardens are wilds since Henry is not here. Thame?

Let grottos fink, or particos arise ? Who lull thy anxious soul to balmy rest,

Heedless I view them with unpleasur'd eyes : If Henry, dearest Henry, flies thy breast?

Their mantling umbrage cools the noon-day fire,

But what can cool a lover's fierce defire ? Yet, though he flies, your wings, ye angels, spread,

In the deep borom of a darksome shade, And hover, guardians, o'er my Henry's head,

Dy baleful yew and mournful cypress made; Who knows but this kind pray'r is pour'd eno late,

A widow turtle weeps her ravish'd love, And he already struggles with his fate?

And sorrowfully solaces the grove, Already, wounded, pants, and gasps in death, Sometimes my passion I aloud disclose; And Rosamonda is his latest breath?

The widow'd turtle, answering, cooes her woes. Propitious Heaven ! vouchsafe a gracious ear!

Bred by my hand, my forrow's sad relief, Grant, these be only phantoms of my fear :

A little linnet learns to ligh my grief; Heav'n still is gracious, if true suppliants pray ;

Taught by my voice, and by obedience tame, And lo!--the foul chimæras fleet away!

The pretty lifper whistles Henry's name : Transporting prospects to my wishes rise,

Perch'd on my head, the sylvan fyren fings, Beam on my foul, and brighten in my eyes!

And tunes the harsher notes of gurgling springs. He lives! he lives! I see his banner spread,

Embosom'd in a vale, thou know's the shade, And laurels, wreath'd round the gay victor's head! Fast by the murmurs of a soft cascade ; Ye winds : convey the news to Albion's floods ! There, while one night full beams of Cynthia play, Yc floods : resound it to the joyous woods ! (Warm was the night) with wand'rings tir'd, i lay, Ye joyous woods : your tuneful choirs prepare Till, by degrees, the falling waters clos'd To hail my hero from the toils of war:

My eye-lids, and my wcary'd limbs repos'd. Delusive scenes! too beautiful to stay!

Sudden the fairy monarch i behold, They fade in vifionary frcaks away.

Near he approach'd, and thus my fate foretold :

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WORS

Twas the same Oberon*, that once we saw Life irksome grows; detested is the light, Circle the green, and give his dancers law.) And my soul dreads the visions of the night. Unhappy nymph! thy beauty is thy crime,

Swift let me to fome hallow'd convent go, And must such beauty perilh in its prime!

Can I for ever Henry leave?-ah! no:No more great vienry thallenjoy these charms But O loft innocence !---I loft a name :Nor thou ill fiated fair adorn his arms!

O honour !-- broken is the bubble, fame. Crope like an opening sofe thy fall I fear!

Are my fins monitrous ? Do invented ctimes, But rise and supplicare the vengeance near,

Alike unknown to pait, or prelent times, Then (as methought) I wak’d with threaten'd

Deniand red vengeance? Some peculiar curse?

Crowds land recorded for the same, or worse. Emergidg from thick Mhades, a phantom rose.

Have I, unpiryirg, heard the poor coniplain, One hand sustain'da More, but naked sword,

Or feeu the wretched weep, and weep in vain ?

Have I my flame feign'd for a sordid end ?
And one a golden bowl, with poison for'd.
The jealous queen, the frowning form expressid,

E’er wrong'd a fue, os e'er betray'd a friend?

Not to my charge such crimes has malice brought, It spoke, and aim'd the dagger at my breast.

Love, only love, is my unbounded fault : Arise! nor ask thy crime-but choose thy fate, A fault, that fure may heav'n to pity move, Krow prayers are vaia-repentance is too late! Since hall of heav'n ('tis faid) confills in love. Vengeance is niine-Here: drink this poilun'd Or this keen dagger drinks thy guilty soul? {bowl,

Ah! fjolish nymph!--Here, view the queen!

the laws! li ccis'd: convullions in my bofom firove, My curdling blood scarce in till rides could moves

But there, view Henry, as th' enchanting cause !

By such a cause the pricficfs would retire,
Thrice I cry'd Henry, with a feeble sound,
And thrice I started at the lad rebound !

And quit the veral for a nobler fire.
Ev'n echo now grow frightful : with surprise

I will again th' inimortal powers implore; Trenibling ! 1:5, nor dar'd i' unveil my eyes,

Prave Henry for Britannia's fake restore ! Will warhiing birds proclaim'd the morning light,

In him the lives, to him her joys are due, And cold nie 'was a vision of the night;

And only finds her earliest thanks to you. Yee root the morn could chafe my gloomy care,

Bit oh: my lord, my darling lord, beware! Lut winds and trecs, alarm'd my fout with fear;

Tempt not too bold the dangers of the war! While waving boughs, that in the sun.beans

Think, when shou feef the face impelling dart,

O! think it ain'd at Rolamenda's heart! play'd, Sceni'd to show daggers in cach pointed shade.

Were but each breast as folt a, mine! no more Why was I form'd with such a coward mind?

Should cumul:s rise, or martial thunders roar :

Ilcioes frouli fcorn the glories of the field,
The sport of thadows, or a restling wind !

And the fam'd laurel to the myrtle yield:
Nerves, better itrun, dia mail; spirits warm,
Cad would I sart with every female charm,

For fweeter passions, sweeter ftrifes inspire,
Thin, cas'd in fixel, che front of battle dare,

And love alone should see the foul on fire: An'i, with great Henry, rouf: the foul of war! May then these eyes in tears no longer mourn, This arm thall guard the hero from the soe,

But cheerful hail their Henry's wish'd return! Papel the storii, or intercept the blow;

0! swift, victorious, hush the war's alarms! And fhould niy wcakness in the warrior fail,

Swift, if thy Rossmonda boasts some charms, The futz-bererching woman fou!) prevail;

Fly on the wings of love, and conquer to her For thee, I'll Gothe each proud insulting foe,

arms! Ard melt him with petitionary ws;

OElober 20. 1725.
With thee, in every hardy hazırd join,

HENRY TO ROSAMOND:
la dangers fave thy life, to make it niine.
By night, comport thy haralz'd foul to reit,
And hush it on che pillow of my breast;

SHALL then his beauteous Rosamonda mourn, With print eyes eternal vigils keep,

Nor Henry's soul the fofe complaint returo: And court good angels to protect ily sleep. O cease, my fair! I deeply feel thy smart, Alis! in vain I urge my fruitrate will,

And all thy sorrows double in my heart : I find myself a feeble woman till;

Far from my breast, ye fcenes of war! remove, te leeble wornan to my breat returne,

Far from my breast, b: every scene but love; For Henry's gone, and Rolamonda mourns ! Sost rising thoughts as when, in Woodstock0! sec my eyes their streaming ang with pour,

bowers, 0! heir my siglis increase the livelling thower ; Joyful, we lov'd away the laughing hours. What can I more than shed my tears and fighs?

Now midnight-rest relieves the soldier's care, Poor woman's itrength alone in weakness lies? Hush'd are the drums, and every voice of war;

Bat whether is ungovern’d fancy flown? Faint gleam the fires along the dewy field, Thoughts of impoflibilities be gone!

And faint the noise, that fleeping coursers yield; Built claims no miracles, nor heav'n conspires Yet love, the lordly tyrant of my breal, To aid my crimes, and fan ny lawless fires. Alarms my soul, and interrupts my rest;

In vain a nation's cares the monarch move, King of the firies.

For ah! fur greater is the monarch love! VUL, VIIL

AN EPISTLE.

Na

Warm from my lips, thy tender lecter lies, “ Warn'd by my fate, to learn, for learn you mug And every word is magic to my eyes ;

“ That all your fame, like mine, but turns to dut." Weeping, I read, and hear thy soft-breach'd woes, And all the warrior in the lover lose :

THE CAMBRIDGE BEAUTIES, Then I by fancy vanish'd joys restore, Feast on false love, and act past pleasures o'er.

By an Admirer of the Fair Sex Fancy can soothe my soul with pleasing dreams

Ye genele nymphs, to whom my lays belong; While tented Galia, bowery Woodstock seems;

Approve my numbers, and all & my song; Led by delusive fteps, in thought, I rove,

Sofi smiling may your bright'ning eyes inspire Through well known greens, and every winding

At once the poet's, and the lover's fire: grove.

So shall the mufe each magic charm rehearse, There, haply on some flowery bank reclin'd

So shall each charm be lasting as her verse. My sweet. repofing Rosamonda find; When then (for then thy secret thoughts I see) Bless's in my choice! what blooming beauties In pious Numbers breath'st thy foul to me;

rise! Didolu'd with joy, and feasting on thy charms, How court my numbers with inspiring eyes! I clasp thee in imaginary arms;

O could my lays like gentle Waller move, And then-ah then !—I feem sincerely bleft Like gemele Waller, tune the foul to love ; Then only Rofam.onda, knows the rell

Bright as my cheme, each easy note faould thine,

And sachariflas smile in ev'ry line O glories! empires! crowns' how weak ye prove,

To Aurenelia fam'd Carlisle should yield, If thus out-rivalled by a dream of love

And Waller own his fav'rite fair excell'd: O love ! wbat toys thy real sweets below, When ev’n their hadows can transport me so !

Had charms like her's inspir'd his lofty lays, O bless ecstatic bleft relief from cares!

How had he grown immortal in her praise! Thus let me lose my soul in foster wars!

How might the muse her wonted gift receive, By love's trantporting fighs my sweet alarma's,

And poetry from beauty learn to live! Nor worlds, but Rosamonda crown my arms ! When Sylvia smiles, methinks the (miles to prove In her alone, my full desires agree,

Her charms superior to the power of love. Her charms are empires, glories, all to me! Gay sportive Cupids flucter round the fair, THE HOUR GL ASS.

Pant on her breast, and wanton in her hair ;

With ev'ry lock, a new adorer gain, As in my silent study late 1 fate,

And ev'ry ringlet is a lover's chain ; Intent on poet's poor precarious state,

The ortic ringlets, soft dissolving down, Around my fighe a sudden dimnefs play'd, Flow on her breast, and half her bosom drown; And eing' the taper with a blewy shade; Through the bright shades, her panting bubbies When to my eyes appear'd that watchful pow'r

heave, Which measures out the sandy-streaming hour, Like swans emerging from a silver wave. An human form the meagure phantom wore,

On Delia's cheeks, eternal roses bloom, And on its brow a faded laurel bore,

Her ruby lips exhale a sweet perfume ; On me were fix'd its looks, whilst thus it spoke,

Her ruby lips indulge a mutual kiss, And sounds like these the fulemn filence broke.

And blush luxuriant in their envy'd bliss. • At length the time is come to tell a truth “ To thee, to thee alone, O fated youth!

When bright Belinda leads the sprightl; dance, « Then mark my story well-in happier days, With ev'ry step our captive hearts advance; “ Like thine my bosom panted after praise; Her magic charms the soft enchantress prove, “ Foe to the grave fatigues of life I strove And on her breast descends the god of love “ To grow immortal in a myrtle grove :

Smiling, she seems to imitate those airs, 6. Loft there, I lavish'd out my little store, That form their regularity by her's; 6 Deftin'd to live poetically poor;

Moves, as the soul-diffolving numbers more; # What fender gains my labours brought I spent, And musically swims the maze of love : " And through the glafs my luscious profit went ; On the foft sounds, her gentle motions flow, “ From thence, with fi&ious inspiration warm'd, And fail along magestically flow : " A vain eternity's reversion charm'd;

Her waving arms in snowy circles play, " My fate I Bless’d.--for future fame reserv'd! And all the easy conqueror difplay; 4 For that I glory'd !---and for that I---starv'd ! Melodious music warbles love's alarms, “ Thence by some powerful transmigration turn'd, Sounds the fose charge, and fings her conqu’ring " In these repentant streams my folly mourn'd:

charms. Here, as you see, my fleeting minutes pass, “ Still, as of old, devoted to the glass.

When Flora sings, ye gods! 'tis heaven to hear,

We listen to the music of the sphere; " As once too humble for proud rooms of state,

Our ravish'd fight confirms the sweet surprise, “ In homely cottages I seek my fate,

And owns the angel, by her heav'nly eyes * And find my valt poetic proinis'd land 6 All dwindled to this little barren fand;

But, oh! my muse, your tunefall't charms pre “ With which advise, ye youthful fons of thyme, pare, In abler Audies to employ your time;

Harmonious, as your Aurenslia's fais.

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