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Meanwhile that art thy real worth proclaims,
Since to partake thy honours thus, she aims.
Let polish'd Falsehood dazzle youth;
Let Flatt'ry speak the style of courts:
Give me Benevolence, and Truth,

Far from dark Treachery's resorts. Clear as the sky that lights a sunshine eve, Thy style, sweet Courtesy, can ne'er deceive. Prompted by love of human race,

From generous motives bent to please, Thy feelings answer to thy face,

Thy manners still are stamp'd with ease, Each social being, in thy presence blest, With ardour clasps thee to his grateful breast.

The rich sometimes may succour want:
For ever to oblige is thine.
The great external gifts may grant,

To charm the soul, but few incline.
Sincere delight, would you each hour impart,
Make haste to learn the breeding of the heart.
Fordyce.

TO INNOCENCE.

"TWAS when the slow declining ray
Had ting'd the cloud with evening gold,
No warbler pour'd the melting lay,
No sound disturb'd the sleeping fold.
When, by a murmuring rill reclin'd,

Sat, wrapt in thought, a wand'ring swain;
Calm peace compos'd his musing mind,

And thus he rais'd the flowing strain.

'Hail Innocence! celestial maid!

What joys thy blushing charms reveal!
Sweet as the arbour's cooling shade,
And milder than the vernal gale.

'On thee attends a radiant choir,

Soft smiling Peace, and downy Rest, With Love, that prompts the warbling lyre, And Hope, that soothes the throbbing breast.

'Oh! sent from Heaven to haunt the grove,
Where squinting Envy ne'er can come !
Nor pines the cheek with luckless love,
Nor anguish chills the living bloom.
'But spotless Beauty, rob'd in white,

Sits on yon moss-grown hill reclin'd ;
Serene as Heaven's unsullied light,

And pure as Delia's gentle mind.

'Grant, heavenly power! thy peaceful sway
May still my ruder thoughts control,
Thy hand to point my dubious way,
Thy voice to soothe the melting soul.

'Far in the shady, sweet retreat,

Let Thought beguile the ling'ring hour; Let Quiet court the mossy seat,

And twining olives form the bower.

'Let dove-eyed Peace her wreath bestow,
And oft sit list'ning in the dale,
While Night's sweet warbler from the bough
Tells to the grove his plaintive tale.

'Soft as in Delia's snowy breast,
Let each consenting passion move,
Let angels watch its silent rest,
And all its blissful dreams be love!'

Ogilvie.

TO YOUTH.

YOUTH, ah stay, prolong delight,
Close thy pinions stretch'd for flight!
Youth, disdaining silver hairs,
Autumn's frowns and Winter's cares,
Dwell'st thou but in dimple sleek,
In vernal smiles and Summer's cheek?
On Spring's ambrosial lap thy hands unfold, [gold.
They blossom fresh with hope, and all they touch is

Graver years come sailing by ;
Hark! they call me as they fly;
'Quit,' they cry,' 'for nobler themes,
'Statesman, quit thy boyish dreams!
Tune to crowds thy pliant voice,

Or flatter thrones, the nobler choice!
Deserting Virtue, yet assume her state;
Thy smiles, that dwell with Love, ah! wed them

now to Hate.

'Or in Victory's purple plain
Triumph thou on hills of slain!
While the virgin rends her hair,
Childish sires demand their heir,
Timid orphans kneel and weep:
Or, where the unsunn'd treasures sleep,
Sit brooding o'er thy cave in grim repose, [woes.'
There mock at human joys, there mock at human

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Years away! too dear I prize Fancy's haunts, her vales, her skies ; Come, ye gales that swell the flowers, Wake my soul's expanding powers; Come, by streams embower'd in wood, Celestial forms, the Fair, the Good! With moral charms associate vernal joys! Pure Nature's pleasures these-the rest are Fa

shion's toys.

Come, while years reprove in vain,
Youth, with me and Rapture reign!
Sculpture, Painting, meet my eyes,
Glowing still with young surprise!
Never to the Virgin's lute

This ear be deaf, this voice be mute!
Come, Beauty, cause of anguish, heal its smart,
-Now temperate measures beat, unalter'd else my
heart.

Still my soul, for ever young,
Speak thyself divinely sprung!
Wing'd for Heaven, embracing Earth,
Link'd to all of mortal birth,
Brute or man, in social chain

Still link'd to all, who suffer pain,
Pursue th' eternal law !-one power above,
Connects, pervades the whole-that power divine

is Love.

Lovibond.

AGAINST SUSPICION.

OH fly! 'tis dire Suspicion's mien ;
And, meditating plagues unseen,

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The sorceress hither bends:
Behold her torch in gall imbrued:
Behold-her garment drops with blood
Of lovers and of friends.

Fly far! Already in your eyes
I see a pale suffusion rise;

And soon through every vein,
Soon will her secret venom spread,
And all your heart and all your head
Imbibe the potent stain.

Then many a demon will she raise
To vex your sleep, to haunt your ways;
While gleams of lost delight
Raise the dark tempest of the brain,
As lightning shines across the main,
Through whirlwinds and through night.

No more can faith or candour move;
But each ingenuous deed of love,
Which reason would applaud,
Now, smiling o'er her dark distress,
Fancy malignant strives to dress
Like injury and fraud.

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Farewell to virtue's peaceful times:
Soon will you stoop to act the crimes
Which thus you stoop to fear:
Guilt follows guilt: and where the train
Begins with wrongs of such a stain,
What horrors form the rear!

"Tis thus to work her baleful power, Suspicion waits the sullen hour

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