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• Or, if you would fome other clime purfue,
• Then shall some other climate please me too.
• And when the happy deftin'd land we meet,
• Where Providence fhall fix our wand'ring feet;
• With joyful fervitude I'll ftill attend

• On you, my nuptial lord, and dearest friend.
• Soon as Aurora spreads her purple ray,

• When you awake to chace the nimble prey, • I'll also rife; and, with an equal art,

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Display the net, or speed the pointed dart;

Or fearch the plains, and tafteful herbs provide; Or ftrip the vines, and prefs their juicy pride: • Each ev'ning will I fondly deck your bed • With sweetest flow'rets gather'd from the mead; • And when diffolv'd in downy sleep you lie, • I'll wake, and watch if foes approach too nigh. To guard your life, all hazards will I run; And, for your fafety, facrifice my own.'

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To whom the youth: No hazards fhall you run;
Nor for my fafety facrifice your own;

Nor yet at ev'ning fondly deck my bed

• With sweetest flow'rets, gather'd from the mead; • Nor fhall Amanda tasteful herbs explore;

Nor fhall Avaro chafe the favage boar.

• A fofter bed than flow'rs, fhall give you reft; • A choicer meat than fruits, indulge your

tafte.

• Ten thousand things my grateful soul shall find,
To charm your fancy, and delight your mind:
I'll vary love a hundred diff'rent ways,
And institute new arts to make it please.

So fhall our future race of children fee

A conftant proverb made of you and me:

When British youths fhall court the doubting dame,
And want expreffion equal to their flame;

Then, strongly to atteft it, fhall be faid,

"True as Avaro to the Indian Maid."

Το

I afk nor wealth, nor pomp nor pow'r,
Thofe glitt'ring pageants of an hour
Unenvious I refign.

Reftore, fair queen, reftore my love!
So fhall thy name thro' ev'ry grove
Refound in foftest lays;

With myrtles crown'd thy altars rife,
Arabian odours mount the fkies,
And virgins fing thy praise.

E LEGY.

BY WILLIAM SHENSTONE, ESQ

THE AUTHOR TAKES OCCASION, FROM THE FATE OF ELEANOR OF BRETAGNE*, TO SUGGEST THE IMPERFECT PLEA

1 SURES OF A SOLITARY LIFE.

HEN Beauty mourns, by Fate's injurious doom,

W Hid from the thearful glance of human eye;

When Nature's pride inglorious waits the tomb,
Hard is that heart which checks the rifing figh.

Fair Eleonora! would no gallant mind

The cause of Love, the cause of Justice, own?
Matchlefs thy charms, and was no life refign'd
To fee them fparkle from their native throne?

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* Eleanor of Bretagne, the lawful heirefs of the English crown, upon the death of Arthur, in the reign of King John. She was esteemed the beauty of her time; was imprisoned forty years (till the time of her death) in Bristol

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O had fair Freedom's hand unveil'd thy charms!
Well might fuch brows the regal gem refign;
Thy radiant mien might fcorn the guilt of arms,
Yet Albion's awful empire yield to thine.

O fhame of Britons! in one fullen tow'r
She wet with royal tears her daily cell;
She found keen anguifh ev'ry rofe devour:

They fprung, they fhone, they faded, and they fell.

Thro' one dim lattice, fring'd with ivy round,
Succeffive funs a languid radiance threw;

To paint how fierce her angry guardian frown'd,
To mark how faft her waning beauty flew.

This Age might bear; then fated Fancy palls,
Nor warmly hopes what fplendour can fupply;
Fond youth inceffant mourns, if rigid walls
Restrain it's lift'ning ear, it's curious eye.

Believe me **the pretence is vain!

This boasted calm that fmooths our early days;

For never yet could youthful mind restrain

Th' alternate pant for pleasure and for praise.

E'en me, by fhady oak or limpid spring,
E'en me the scenes of polish'd life allure;
Some genius whispers, Life is on the wing,
And hard his lot that languishes obfcure.

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• What tho' thy riper mind admire no more-
The fhining cincture, and the broider'd fold,
Can pierce like lightning thro' the figur'd ore,
And melt to drofs the radiant forms of gold.

• Furs,

Furs, ermines, rods, may well attract thy fcorn,
The futile prefents of capricious Pow'r !
• But wit, but worth, the public fphere adorn,
And who but envies then the focial hour?

Can virtue, careless of her pupil's meed,

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Forget how ** fuftains the fhepherd's caufe?

• Content in fhades to tune a lonely reed,

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For public haunts, impell'd by Britain's weal, 'See Grenville quit the mufes' fav'rite ease; And fhall not fwains admire his noble zeal?

Admiring praise, admiring strive to please?

'Life,' fays the fage, affords no blifs fincere,

And courts and cells in vain our hopes renew: But, ah! where Grenville charms the lift'ning ear, ''Tis hard to think the chearless maxim true.

The groves may fmile, the rivers gently glide,
Soft thro' the vale refound the lonesome lay;
E'en thickets yield delight, if taste prefide,

But can they please when Lyttelton's away?

'Pure as the fwain's the breast of ** glows;

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Ah! were the fhepherd's phrafe like his refin'd!
But how improv'd the gen'rous dictate flows
Thro' the clear medium of a polish'd mind!

Happy the youths, who, warm with Britain's love,
Her inmost wish in ** periods hear!

Happy that in the radiant circle move,

• Attendant orbs, where Lonsdale gilds the sphere!

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While rural faith, and ev'ry polish'd art,

Each friendly charm, in

confpire,

From public fcenes all penfive must you part;
All joyless to the greeneft fields retire!

Go, plaintive youth! no more by fount or ftream,
'Like fome lone halcyon, focial pleasure shun;
Go, dare the light, enjoy it's chearful beam,

And hail the bright proceffion of the fun.

• Then, cover'd by thy ripen'd shades, resume
The filent walk, no more by paffion toft;
Then feek thy ruftic haunts, the dreary gloom,
• Where ev'ry art that colours life is lost.'

In vain! the lift'ning Mufe attends in vain!
Reftraints in hoftile bands her motions wait-
Yet will I grieve, and fadden all my ftrain,
When injur'd Beauty mourns the mufe's fate.

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AIN would my verfe, Tyrconnel! boaft thy name;
Brownlowe! at once my fubject and

F vece my fame.

Oh! could that spirit which thy bofom warms,

Whofe ftrength furprizes, and whofe goodness charms;

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