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By self the fop in magic colours shown,
Though scorn'd by ev'ry eye, delights his own:
When age and wrinkles seize the conqu'ring maid,
Self, not the glass, reflects the flatt'ring shade.
Then, wonder-working self! begin the lay;
Thy charms to others as to me display.
Straight is my person, but of little size;
Lean are my cheeks, and hollow are my eyes:
My youthful down is, like my talents, rare ;
Politely distant stands each single hair.
My voice too rough to charm a lady's ear;
So smooth a child may listen without fear;
Not form'd in cadence soft and warbling lays,
To sooth the fair through pleasure's wanton ways.
My form so fine, so regular, so new,

My port so manly, and so fresh my hue;

Oft, as I meet the crowd, they laughing say,

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See, see Memento Mori cross the way."

The ravish'd Proserpine at last, we know,
Grew fondly jealous of her sable beau;
But thanks to nature! none from me need fly,
One heart the devil could wound-so cannot I.
Yet, though my person fearless may be seen,
There is some danger in my graceful mien:
For, as some vessel toss'd by wind and tide,
Bounds o'er the waves, and rocks from side to
side;

In just vibration thus I always move:

This who can view and not be forc'd to love?

Hail! charming self! by whose propitious aid My form in all its glory stands display'd: Be present still; with inspiration kind, Let the same faithful colours paint the mind. Like all mankind, with vanity I'm bless'd, Conscious of wit I never yet possess'd. To strong desires my heart an easy prey, Oft feels their force, but never owns their sway. This hour, perhaps, as death I hate my foe; The next I wonder why I should do so. Though poor, the rich I view with careless eye; Scorn a vain oath, and hate a serious lie. I ne'er for satire torture common sense; Nor show my wit at God's nor man's expense. Harmless I live, unknowing and unknown; Wish well to all, and yet do good to none. Unmerited contempt I hate to bear; Yet on my faults, like others, am severe. Dishonest flames my bosom never fire; The bad I pity, and the good admire: Fond of the Muse, to her devote my days, And scribble-not for pudding, but for praise. These careless lines, if any virgin hears, Perhaps, in pity to my joyless years, ele She may consent a gen'rous flame to own; And I no longer sigh the nights alone. But, should the fair, affected, vain, or nice, Scream with the fears inspir'd by frogs or mice; Cry, 66 save us, heav'n! a spectre, not a man!” Her hartshorn snatch, or interpose her fan:

If I my tender overture repeat;

O! may my vows her kind reception meet!
May she new graces on my form bestow,
And with tall honours dignify my brow!

ODE TO AURORA.

ON MELISSA'S BIRTH-DAY,

Or time and nature eldest born,
Emerge, thou rosy-finger'd morn,
Emerge, in purest dress array'd,

And chase from Heav'n night's envious shade,
That I once more may, pleas'd, survey,

And hail Melissa's natal day.

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Of time and nature eldest born,
Emerge, thou rosy-finger'd morn:
In order at the eastern gate
The Hours to draw thy chariot wait;
Whilst Zephyr, on his balmy wings,
Mild nature's fragrant tribute brings,
With odours sweet to strew thy way,
And grace the bland, revolving day.

But as thou lead'st the radiant sphere,
That gilds its birth, and marks the year,
And as his stronger glories rise,
Diffus'd around th' expanded skies,

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Till cloth'd with beams serenely bright,

All Heav'n's vast concave flames with light;

So, when, through life's protracted day,

Melissa still pursues her way,

Her virtues with thy splendour vie,

Increasing to the mental eye:

Though less conspicuous, not less dear,
Long may they Bion's prospect cheer;
So shall his heart no more repine,
Bless'd with her rays, though robb'd of thine.

WILLIAM HAYWARD ROBERTS. BORN 1745.-DIED 1791.

He was educated at Eton, and from thence was elected to King's college, Cambridge, where he took the degree of master of arts, and of doctor in divinity. From being an under master at Eton he finally rose to be provost of the college, in the year 1781. He was also chaplain to the king, and rector of Farnham Royal, in Buckinghamshire. In 1771 he published, in three parts, " A Poetical Essay on the Attributes and Providence of the Deity." Two years afterwards," A Poetical Epistle to Christopher Anstey, on the English Poets, chiefly those who had written in blank verse;" and in 1774 his poem of "Judah Restored," a work of no common merit.

FROM JUDAH RESTORED.

BOOK I.

The Subject proposed-State of the Jews in captivity-Character of Belshazzar-Feast of Baal-Daniel visited by the Angel Gabriel.

THE fall of proud Belshazzar, the return
Of Benjamin, and Judah, captive tribes,

I sing. Spirit of God, who to the eyes
Of holy seers in vision didst reveal

Events far distant; thou, who once didst touch
Their lips with heavenly fire, and tune their harps
To strains, sublimer than the Tuscan stream
Caught from his Latian bards, or echoed round
The wide Ægean from Ionia's shore,
Inspire my soul; blest spirit, aid my song.

The sun full seventy times had pass'd the realm
Of burning Scorpius, and was hastening down
The steep convex of heaven, since Babylon
Receiv'd her mourning prisoners. Savage taunts,
And the rude insult of their barbarous lords,
Embitter all their woe. Meanwhile the Law,
Proclaim'd on Horeb's top, neglected lies;
Nor kid, nor evening lamb, nor heifer bleeds,
Nor incense smokes, nor holy Levite claims
Choice fruits, and rich oblations. On the trees,
That o'er the waters bend, their untun'd harps,
Harps, which their fathers struck to festal hymns,
Hang useless. 'Twas the hill, 'twas Sion's hill,
Which yet Jehovah lov'd. There once he dwelt;

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