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Laid on a daisy sprinkled green,

Beside a plaintive stream,
A meek-ey'd youth of serious mien

Indulged this solemn theine.

Ye cliffs in hoary grandeur pild

High o’er the gliminering dale!
Ye groves, along whose windings wild,

Soft fighs the saddening gale ;
Where oft lone melancholy strays,

By wilder'd fancy sway'd,
What time the wan moon's yellow rays

Gleam through the chequer'd shade!

To you, ye wastes, whose artless charms

Ne'er drew ambition's eye,
Scap'd a tumultuous world's alarms

To your retreats I fly;
Deep in your most fequefter'd bower

Let me my woes resign,
Where folitude, mild modest power,

Leans on her ivy'd frine.

How shall I woo thee, matchless fair!

Thy heavenly smile how win!
Thy smile, that smooths the brow of care,

And stills each storm within !
O wilt thou to thy favourite grove

Thine ardent vot'ry bring,
And bless his hours, and bid them move

Serene on filent wing.

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Oft Oft let remembrance foothe his mind ODE FOR LADY

With dreams of former days,
When soft on leisure's lap reclin'd

He carol'd sprightly lays:
Blest days! when fancy smiled at care,

When pleasure toy'd with truth,
Nor envy with malignant glare

Had harm'd his simple youth.

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'Twas then, O solitude, to thee

His early vows were paid,
From heart sincere and warm and free,

Devoted to the shade.
Ah! why did fate his steps decoy,

In stormy paths to roam,
Remote from all congenial joy !-

O take thy wanderer home.

Henceforth thy awful haunts be mine!

The long-abandon'd hill;
The hollow cliff, whose waving pine

O'er hangs the darksome rill;
Whence the scar’d owl on pinions grey

Breaks from the rustling boughs, And down the lone vale fails away

To ihades of deep repose.

O while to thee the woodland pours

Its wildly warbling song,
And fragrant from the waste of Alowers

The zephyr breathes along;

Let

Let no rude found invade from far,
No
vagrant

foot be nigh,
No ray from grandeur's gilded car

Flash on the startled eye.

Yet if some pilgrim ʼmid the glade

Thy hallow'd bowers explore,
O guard from harm his hoary head,

And listen to his lore.
For he of joys divine shall tell,

That wean from earthly woe,
And triumph o'er the mighty spell

That chains this heart below.

For me, no more the path invites

Ambition loves to tread ;
No more I climb those toilsome heights,

By guileful hope misled :
Leaps my fond fluttering heart no more

To mirth’s enlivening strain ;
For present pleasure foon is o'er,

And all the past is vain,

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'S BIRTH-DAY.

WHILE some vain muse, deluded with the

zeal,
Which youthful bards inspir’d by beauty feel,

Her feftive garland brings,
Suffer, dear girl, cne sober friend
His cypress with those flow'rs to blend,

Attentive while he sings :
Come, let's lament the jocund days are past,
Lament whole

years should run their course so fast, And that thy peerless charms have but few more

to last!
When this the language of the town,
“ Can nothing but an earl go down;
I tremble left her bloom should fade,
And after all the die a maid !”

Sure in fair Albion's land was never seen
A ftatelier form-a more majestic mien-

Limbs of such cast as thine ;
Features you have of chaftest mould,
Lips--that make ---'s look too cold,

In spite of their carmine. Not B-y's cheek boasts more becoming hue, Complexion you have, paragon'd by few, A countenance as sweet as either F-s or C-W.

How

How evidently thro’ the clothes
Your pulpy thigh its ripeness shews ;
Can pins restrain that wanton breast,
It heaves—and you are half undrest !

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Yet know, the full-blown Aow'r is shortly clos'd,
Fruits, when mature, to the first gust expos’d,

Fall tasteless, and decay ;
Soon shall that bosom, Aufh'd with pride,
Abash’d, its little roses hide,

Its lillies die away.--
See F. -y, angel once as you are now,
Spoilt is her shape--and rude enough her brow,
Tho' none less ravag'd for her years we must

allow :
Nay, folks still hold, 'tis hard to tell
If more inviting, she or B-l;
Nor yields the mother to the daughter
For eyes of most voluptuous water.

What then shall S-e do? -No, God forbid !
As senseless D-d, or as Sy did,

Chill vestals out of date;
They, whose ambition soar'd so high,
(Taught humbler maxims by the by)

Repented—when too late :
Tho's—r, P-e, L-r, still be fair,
Tho' W. -e be but little worse for wear,
Poor Ho has neither teeth nor hair.

Draw

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