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Beneath the plume that fames with glancing rayo,

Be Care's deep engines on the soul imprels'd; Beneath the helmet's keen refulgent blaze,

Let Grief sit pining in the canker'd breast.

Let Love's gay sons, a smiling train, appear,

With Beauty pierc’d-yet heedless of the dart: While closely couch'd, pale fick’ning Envy near,

Whets her fell sting, and points it at the heart.

Perch'd like a raven on some blasted yew, •

Let Guilt revolve the thought-distracting sin; Scar'd-while her eyes farvey th' etherial blue,

Left heav'n's strong lightning burst the dark within.

Then paint-impending o'er the madd’ning deep

That rock, where heart-struck Sappho, vainly brave, Stood firm of foul--then from the dizzy steep

Impetuous sprung, and dath'd the boiling wave.

Here, rapt in studious thought, let Fancy rove,

Still prompt to mark Suspicion's secret snare ; To see where Anguilh nips the bloom of Love,

Or trace proud Grandeur to the domes of Care.

Should e'er Ambition's tow'ring hopes inflame,

Let judging Reason draw the veil aside ; Or fir'd with envy at some mighty name,

Read o’er the monument that tells--He dy'd!

What are the ensigns of imperial sway?

What all that Fortune's lib'ral hand has brought? Teach they the voice to pour a sweeter lay?

Or rouze the soul to more exalted thought?

When

When bleeds the heart as Genius blooms unknown;

When melts the eye o'er Virtue's mournful bier : Not wealth, but Pity, swells the bursting groan;

Not pows, but whispering Nature, prompts the teař:

Say, gentle mourner, in yon mouldy vault;

Where the worm fattèns on some scepter'd brow; Beneath that roof with sculptur'd marble fraught,

Why sleeps unmov'd the breathless duft below:

Sleeps it more sweetly than the fimple fwain,

Beneath fome moffy turf that refts his head; Where the lone widow tells the night her pain;

And eve with dewy tears embalms the dead

The lily, screen'd from ev'ry ruder gale,

Courts not the cultur'd spot where roses spring ; But blows neglected in the peaceful vale,

And scents the zephyrs balmy breathing wing:

The bufts of grandeur, and the pomp of pow'r,

Can these bid Sorrow's gushing tears fubfide ? Can these avail, in that tremendous hour,

When Death's cold hand congeals the purple tide?

Ah, no!-the mig

Pride's though Serve but to spr

And swell w

mes are heard no more:

and Beauty's kindling bloom,
g moment o’er,
verse the scutcheon's tomb.

For mema

Nor be tr Let Wealt

Where

r my

soul invade,
ow'ring Frenzy giv'n;
me from the peaceful shade,
n wings the soul to heav'n!

O guard me fafe from Joy's enticing snare,

With each extreme that Pleasure tries to hide; The poison’d breath of flow-consuming Care,

The noise of Folly, and the dreams of Pride!

But oft, when midnight's fadly solemn knell

Sounds long and distant from the sky-topp'd tower ; Calm let me fit in Prosper's lonely cell*,

Or walk with Milton thro' the dark obscure.

Thus, when the transient dream of life is filed,

May some sad friend recal the former years ; Then, stretch'd in silence o'er my dusty bed,

Pour the warm gulh of sympathetick tears.

P H I L L I S;

OR, THE PROGRESS OF LOVE,

BY DEAN SWIFT.

D

ESPONDING Phillis was endu'd

With ev'ry talent of a prude:
She trembled when a man drew near;
Salute her, and she turn'd her ear.
If o'er against her you were plac'd,
She durft not look above

your

waift: She'd rather take you to her bed, Than let

you

fee her dress her head.
In church you hear her, thro' the crowd,
Repeat the Absolution loud :
In church, secure behind her fan,
She durit behold that monster, man.

See Shakespeare's Tempeft.

There

There practis'd how to place her head,
And bite her lips to make them red;
Or on the mat devoutly kneeling,
Would lift her eyes up to the cieling,
And heave her bosom unaware,
For neighb'ring beaus to see it bare.
At length, a lucky lover came,
And found admittance to the dame.

Suppose all parties now agreed,
The writings drawn, the lawyer fee'd,
The vicar and the ring bespoke ;
Guess, how could such a match be broke ?
See then, what mortals place their bliss in !
Next morn betimes, the bride was missing.
The mother scream'd, the father chid ;

Where can this idle wench be hid ?
• No news of Phil!'--The bridegroom came,
And thought his bride had sculk'd for fhame;
Because her father us’d to say,
The girl had such a bashful way.

Now John the butler must be sent
To learn the road that Phillis went :
The groom was wish'd to saddle Crop,
For John muft neither light nor ftop;
But find her, wheresoe'er she Aed,
And bring her back, alive or dead.

See here again, the devil to do!
For truly John was missing too;
The horse and pillion both were gone.com
Phillis, it seems, was fled with John !

Old Madam, who went up to find
What
papers

Phil had left behind,
A letter on the toilette fees,
To my much honour'd father--these,”:
('Tis always done, romances tell us,
When daughters run away with fellows)

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Fill'd with the choiceft common places, .
By others us'd in the like cases :
“ That long ago a fortune-teller
Exactly said what now befel her,
And in a glass had made her see
A serving-man of low degree.
It was her fate, must be forgiv'n,
For marriages were made in heav'n.
His pardon begg'd; but, to be plain,
She'd do't, if 'twere to do again :
Thank'd God 'twas neither shame nor fin,
For John was come of honest kin.
Love never thinks of rich and poor;
She'd beg with John from door to door.
Forgive her, if it be a crime ;
She'll never do't another time:
She ne'er before, in all her life,
Once disobey'd him, maid nor wife.”
One argument she summ'd up all in;
“ The thing was done, and paft recalling;
And therefore hop'd she should recover
His favour, when his p.iflion's over:
She valu'd not what others thought her,
And was—his most obedient daughter."

Fair maidens all, attend the Muse,
Who now the wand'ring pair pursues !
Away they rode in homely fort,
Their journey long, their money short.
The loving couple well bemir’d,
The horse and both the riders tir'd;
Their victuals bad, their lodging worlt;
Phil cry'd, and John began to curse :
Phil wish'd that she had ftrain'd a limh,
When first the ventur’d out with him ;
John wilh'd that he had broke a leg,
When firit for her he quitted Peg.

But

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