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"Here's rubbish enough,till my homeward return, , O! mild as the Zephyr, like Zephyr that throws For children to gather, old women to burn;
Its sweets on the sweet-breathing May; Not practis'd to labour, my sides are too sore,
But not on the lap of cold winter bestows, Till another fit season, to shake you down more.
What winter will never repay. What future materials for pruning, and cropping, So turn thee from folly's cold aspect, ah! turn And cleaning, and gleaning, and lopping, and From vice's hard bosom away; topping!
[tree, The wise and the virtuous thy sweets will return, Yet mistake me not, rabble! this tree's a good
As warm and as grateful as May.
ON A VERY FINE LADY.
observes no other rules
Than those the coterie prize;
She thinks, whilst lords continue fools,
'Tis vulgar to be wise: her lover
Thinks rudeness wit in noble dames,
Adultery, love polite;
Than all the host of light.
A grace on Spencer's charms;
And gilded Marlborough's arms.
In general wisdom thinks
The lower Nature's sinks.
disgrace, Were riot's low follower thy lot, [chase,
ON AN ASIATIC LADY. - Were he whose loud pleasures are wine and the you who sail on India's wealthy wave, All love's silent pleasures forgot!
Of gems and gold who spoil the radiant east; What misery to hear, without daring reply,
What oceans, say, what isles of fragrance gave All folly, all insolence speaks ;
This fairer treasure to the joyful west? Still calling the tear of reproach to thy eye,
What banks of Ganges, and what balmy skies The push of disdain to thy cheeks!
Saw the first infant dawn of those unclouded eyes? Would soft macaronies have judgment to prize,
By easy arts while Europe's beauties reign, Whom arts and whom virtues adorn,
Roll the blue languish of their humid eye; Who learnt every virtue and art to despise,
Rule willing slaves, who court and kiss the chain, Where Catos and Scipios were born?
Self-vanquish'd, helpless to resist or fly; Would wealth's drowsy heir, without spark of Less yielding souls confess this eastern fair, Heaven's fire,
And lightning melts the heart that milder fires Enshrin'd in his dulness completely, Awake to the charmer, her voice and her lyre,
Of gods, enamour'd with a mortal dame,
What fortune's caprices thy share ! [fate, Lov'd by the god, who guides the golden day:
A nobler Phæbus woos ber summer's smiling The timid free-thinker, that only defies
queen. Those bolts which bis Maker can throw;
Sublimer sense, and sprightlier wit to please, Would he, when blaspheming the Lord of the That Phoebus gave; he gave the voice and lyre, skies,
That warble sweeter than the spicy breeze, Yet rev’rence his image below?
He gave what charms meridian suns inspire ; Would slaves to a court, or to faction's banditti,
What precious rays from light's pure fountain Thy temperate spirits approve;
stream, So proud in their chains of the court and the city, What warm the diamond’s blaze and ruby's flam. Disdaining no chains, but of love?
ing beam. Plato's fable is, that man and woman originally were one being, divided afterwards by Jupiter for their punishment; that each part, in perpetual search of the other, never recovers happiness till their reunion.
ON READING THE FOREGOING TO THE SAME,
Au envious robe! to frustrate Heaven's intent, Ah! Dorimant, victim to love,
Too fatally caught in his wiles,
Can you in fair Laura approve To cheer the wand'rer on his lonesome way. Those diffusive, those general smiles ? One pow'r who wak'd Aurora's smiling light If inconstancy dwells with that fire Gave skies thcir azure, and gave vales their Which the Sun-beams of Asia impart green,
Can a daughter of Europe desire Form'd the quick sense for wonder and delight, To change with your Laura a heart? Made eyes to see, and Laura to be seen.
No!--happier the temp'rate mind, Curs'd be th' eclipse that plunges morn in night, Which, fix'd to one ohject alone,
And jealous clouds that shade the landscape's To one tevder passion confin'd, On envious robes severer curses light, (scene; Breathes no wishes, no sighs, but for one. That veil the beanties of my summer's queen!
Such bliss has the maid of the plain, Ah Laura! cruel Laura ! why constrain,
Tho' secluded she lives in a cot; In art's fantastic drapery, Nature's ease? Yet, rich in the love of her swain, Why, form’d to empire, empire's arts disdain ? She's contented, and blesses her lot.
why, born for pleasure, still refuse to please ? Ah! say, if deserving thy heart, Nor yet these folds on fulds, this load of dress, The too undistinguishing fair, Shall bar approaches to poetic love;
Who to thousands can raptures impart, No-where the graces sport in sweet recess, And the raptures of thousands can share ! 'Tis fancy, bold intruder's joy to rove.
Ah! say, does she merit those lays? Fancy, pursuing where my Laura flies,
Those lays which true passion define? With wanton gales furbidden charms reveals, No-unworthy the fair of thy praise, Betrays her slumbers, and with eager eyes
Who can listen to any but thine,
Shows where, sequester'd from the sultry beam, REPLY TO MISS G-
Sappho, while your Muse of fire,
Listening to the vocal spheres,
Airs divine for mortal ears:
Viewing higher orbs that glow,
Ever constant, ever true,
Still she dreams to find below
Perfect forms, as Heaven and you,
Blame not Asia's fair, who glances
Random smiles in heedless ease,
Shifts at will ber wayward fancies.
Pleasing all, whom all can please; A heart I had never to give.
Blame her not--no envied treasure
Is the tender, feeling heart,
Bosoms quick to keener pleasure
Beat alas ! as quick to smart. Forgetting the world, and forgot.
Who with eyes that ever langnish, Bit born where my Ganges expands,
Still to deserts sighs alone? To no partial channels contin'd,
Who consumes her youth in anguish Unfix'd to no object, I flow
-She who keeps an heart for one. With innocent smiles on mankind.
Tender lore repaid with treason, Our Asia's bright dames, like their sun,
Fortune's frowns, parental power, Cheer all with benevolent reign,
Blast her in the vernal season, Coy moons, Europe's daughters, but light
Bend her, unsupported flower. A single disconsolate swain,
Happier she, with pliant nature
Fleeting, fickle as the wind;
Turns to meet another kinda
What can Asia's fair pursue ?
Like the traitor, treacherous too.
SONG...LAURA'S ANSWER... TO MISS G...,TO LAURA.
303 Why should faith, obsequious doty,
Sooth an eastern tyrant's scorn? Who but rifies joyless beauty
TO MISS G Steals the honey, leaves the thorn,
Au leave, you cry, the harp unstrung, Sadness sits by Ganges' fountains ;
For fortune shifts her fickle wind: How can echo cheer the vale ?
Resume thy Igre, on willows hung, What repeat from fragrant mountains !
To sing the fair, no longer kind. What but grief and borrour's tale?
Nomnearer view my alter'd state, What but shrieks of wild despair?
For fear too higii, for hope too low; What but shouts that murder sleep?
Beneath the victor's joyful fate, There the struggling, fainting fair;
Yet far above the captive's woe. There-but see my Sappho weep!
The charms of sense no more beguile; Change the strain !—this mournful measure
On reason's lap I lay me down : Melts, oppresses virtuous hearts
If claiming now no beauties' smile, Sappho, wake thy lyre of pleasure !
Appears it just to meet their frown ? Sing of Europe's happier arts !
Light insects they, of gaudy lues, Sing of all the mingled blessing
Admire the glare of youthful day, Reason, tempering passion, knows;
Still bathe in mom's, not evening's dews, All the transport of possessing
From shades of autumn fleet away. Unpluck'd beauty's willing rose!
Behold their train of captains, beaux! Sing of that refin'd sensation
Disdain my breast, disdain to sigh! Mutual melting bosoms prove,
To these the fair, the rivals those, Sonls exchang'd, sweet emanation,
The son of Jove's be my reply: Separate being lost in love!
“ Ah why desert th’ Olympic games ? Rapture's tears, voluptuous stream!
Aspire to victory!" Philip cries : Langlior stealing sorrow's sighs !
“ I come,” young Ammon fierce exclaims, Sing of love-thyself the theme !
“ If kings my rivals, thrones the prize." Sing of love-thyself the prize!
Yes, letter'd maid ! my sonl approve,
The seat no more of vain desires :
Extinguish'd there the flanne of love,
Extinguish'd there ambition's fires !
ANG my lyre upon the willow,
To save from vice, from folly save,
What aid can beauty, pwwer asford ? Float the wrecking tempest's scorn.
Unworthy love to call thee slave,
Unworthy crowds to call thee lord !
Pure reason, yes; purc truth—but why,
Ah why! rebellious heart declare, Calls his artless friendship love:
With flattering pulse and stifled sigh,
That other tenants harbour there?
Go-tranquil Hope, by turns to dwell,
Expelling reason pleasure's court, Sports with fallen virtue's sighs.
Expelling passion wisdom's cell:
Go-reason's, passion's mutual sport.
Vain dreamer!-rather both revere,
But neither's sole dominion own:
It never meant excluding one:
Excluding which ?-objections wait
On vain pretensions either forms; Heaven's divinest image claims
Alike to life's salubrious state
Ye both are fatal-calms and storms,
Now he writes to the fair, with what fervour he | When you vary your charms with your patches,
To me 'tis a weightier affair,
Idolatry, raptures, and flame? (saints Or sits in the president's chair.
When, by nature and art form’d to please, Deceiver thyself, or deceir'd !
You sing, and you talk, and you laugh,
To dream of the chamberlain's staff?
I trust the state vessel shall ride : Ah ! analyse better, as blended they glow
To Bute let the rudder be given, The fames of religiou and love.
Or Pitt be permitted to guide. Quit the teacher, my fair one, and listen to me,
At Almack's, when the turtle's well drest, A doctor less grave and severe !
Must I know the cook's country, or starre? Who eternity's joys for the virtuous can see
And when George gives us liberty's feast,
Not taste 'uill Newcastle shall carve?
With no sober system in view;
Applied to Great Britain and you.
Not heeding what calurony rares,
Yet wish for a new revolution, Though human infirmity fails.
Should rulers treat subjects as slaves.
Of boundless obedience is mine;
Confess non-resistance is thine,
Still enrapture the heart and the ear!
Their brcezes waft health to the mind, What our reason but labours, vain toil! to disarm, Far from the silent vale of peace and love? By virtue and song are retin'd.
On fluttering insects lavish waste perfume,
Or deck the fickle wreath that folly wove? Ah ! listen to me, in whose natural school Religion leads truth by the hand !
And yet the fragrance of thy evening hoar, Who regulates faith by a mystical rule,
Ambrosial odours, yet to me refuse? But builds his foundation on sand !
To me, who pay thy sweets, ungrateful flower !
With rich returus of incense from the Muse ? By the winds of unreconcil'd principles driven, Still fluctuates the methodist's plan;
Who but the Muse transplants thee, short-liv'd Now he wishes you chaste for the glory of Heaven,
From mortal regions to celestial seats ? (rose ! -Xos frail--for the pleasure of man.
By memory's fountain, where thy buds disclose
Eternal beauties, with eternal sweets.
FAREWELL TO THE ROSE.
TO THE SAME.
From moments so precious to life,
All politics, Lauri, remove; Ruby lips must not animate strife,
But breathe the sweet language of love. What is party?-a zeal without science,
A bubble of popular fame, hu nature and viriue's detiance,
Tis reason cuslav'd to a name, » T is the language of madness, or fashion,
Where kuares only guess what they mean; 'Tis a cloak to conceal private passion,
To indulye, with applause, private spleen. Can I, placed by my Laura, inquire,
If poison or claret put out Our Churchill's satyrical fire,
If Wilkes lives with ears or without?
SONG TO * *
In untry'd paths of female wiles ?
And bask secure in other smiles ?
Unalter'd love, as faith professing ;
Forget who makes that gift a blessing,
TO A YOUNG LADY...ON THE DEATII OF AN INFANT.
SHIP WITH THE FAIR SEX.
Lost every function, ranish'd every sense : ON DEN BEING DEPRIVED, FROM CUSTOM AND
Is this thy lot, divine benevolence? DELICACY, OP ENJOYING SOCIAL FRIEND: Approach no more, such bitter anguish, near
So soft a bosom ; fow alone the tear,
That dew of Heaven, O maid ! to Heaven allied, IIad soft Aspasia's sex been man,
Thy great Redeemer shed for man and died. What friendship's holy chains
(lood arrgels mourn creation's glories lost, Ilad link'd our beings, fortune's plan,
And mourning please, resemble him the most ; Our pleasures and our pains ?
Flow then thy tear, ordain'd by Heaven's decree, Alike our ruder, milder sports,
For bliss to others, sweeter bliss to thee ! Our studies too the same,
With pity's pangs her dear sensations feel; Companions both in shades and courls,
The shaft that wounds thee, drops a balm to heal. In paths of love or fame.
Thy soul expanding, like a vernal Aower,
Shåll glow the brighter in afliction's shower By bright collision, patriot beams
For every tear to suff'ring virtue given,
Itself approving, and approv'd by Heaven.
Weep theu, but weep another's fate alone ;
Let smiles be still attendant on thy own. There fate, that strikes the noblest breast,
Had surely reverenc'd thine ; The thirsty lance I then had blest
ON THE DEATH OF AN INFANT. For only wounding mine. But ah! my sweeter downy hours,
How blest is he whom nature's gentle hand Had I been chang', not you ;
Has snatch'd from human life and human woes, What tranquil joys, if kinder powers
Evin in his childish days, ere yet he knew Had made me woman too!
Or sin, or pain, or youthful passion's force !
In earth's soft lap, beneath the flowery turf, Made each the other's softer care,
His peaceful ashes sleep; to Heaven ascends One table then had fed,
Th' unspotted soul, declar'd by voice divine One chamber lodgū the faithful pair,
A guest well pleasing--Then no longer mourn, Ah do not blush !-one bed.
Thou drooping parent, nor bewail him lost Both sitting at one busy loom
In life's first bloom, wben infant reason dawn'd, In nature's vernal bow'r,
And the young mind, unfolding every power, Had rivall’d nature's vernal bloom,
Gave promise fair of manhood, transport fill'd Creating both one flow'r.
The mother's bosom, pondering every word
And action there. She now lamenting loud Both screen'd from summer's sultry view, Deplores him, from her vain einbraces torn In shades by haunted stream,
By unrelenting fate, and fierce disease; Had own'd the moral vision true
Like eastern storms that blast the opening year.
Yet bending o'er the brook,
TO MISS N-M,
WRITTEN AT BRIGHTHELMSTON. And felt our mixing souls refine
Lovely N-m! rise, and see In purer wisdom's ray,
Modest mor resemble thee ! The being virtue's friend and thine
Ocean smiles with your repose, Had clear'd our mists away.
Come to seas, where Venus rose ! Jy morning incense, ev'ning pray'r,
Bathing, Dr. Pool observes, With thine, had soar'd above,
Braces all the optic nerves. With thine ascenrling sweeter there
“ Heavens,” she cries, “ what idle whim! On wings of song and love.
Youthful eyes are seldom dim ; Vain dreams! for custom's laws, combin'd
Mine can mark the distant sail, With virtue's stern decree,
Or lowing herds in Sussex' vale; Diside the beings nature join'd,
Scarce a spire or cottage smoke,
Or cloud embracing mountain oak ;
True—but eyes that distant roam,
Frequent fail for scenes at home.
Let example make ine clearer, PAINTING AT THE NEWS OF, HER FRIEND'S MIS- Place yourself at Shergold's mirror!
Every mild reflected grace,
That angel form, that angel face,
Envy only blind and-you.