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But like the old horse in the song,
I am turn'd on the common to graze-
And contented I yield to her ways!
She ne'er was my friend; through the day,
Her smiles were the smiles of deceit-
At night let me pine at her feet:
No longer her presence I court,
No longer I shrink at her frowns !
And her smiles I resign to the clowns !
Thus lost to each worldly desire,
And scorning all riches-all fame,
When time shall the summons proclaim.
I have nothing to weep for behind !
To part with my friends is the worst !
But you are still one of the first.
This Author was an Actor at Drury-Lane Theatre, under the assumed name of Love. He was the son of the City Architect, and published a small volume of poems printed ut Edinburgh, in 1754.
With one dear female, and one friend,
Janus commends me to my face,
By this confest a judging youth,
Rector of Claybrooke, Leicestershire.
Time was. The spring had now enliven'd every scene, And clad the dusky park in partial green ; Gay opening buds peep'd through the winter rust, And kindly showers had half wash'd off their dust.
On a dull day which, every week, affords
spark Runs two long miles, to saunter in the Park:
Prudentio strolling down the mall was seen,
AVARO. Well met, Prudentio--- Come man, sit you down; How fare you?
Sick, of this confounded town.
AVARO. Aye, so am I ; time was when it was said, A penny buys a pennyworth of bread; But now, engrossers meet with no controul, Your penny scarce will buy a farthing roll. Time was, when evening markets fed the poor, And good cheap things were cried from door to
door ; But now, the bakers get each week a rise, And all provisions double in their price.