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FROM nature, too, I take my rule,
Kites, hawks, and wolves, deferve their fate.
THY fame is juft, the fage replies:
HE fan fhall flutter in all female hands, And various fashions fhew, of various lands. For this, fhall elephants their ivory fhed, And polish'd sticks the waving engine spread; His clouded mail the tortoife fhall refign, And, round the rivet, pearly circles fhine. On this, fhall Indians all their art employ, And, with bright colours, ftain the gaudy toy. Their paint fhall here in wildeft fancies flow, Their drefs, their cuftoms, their religion fhew: So fhall the British fair their minds improve, And, on the fan, to diftant regions rove. Here China's ladies fhall their pride display, And filver figures gild their loose array. This, boafts her little feet, and winking eyes; That, tunes the fife, or tinkling cymbal plies: Here, cross-legg'd nobles, in rich ftate, fhall dine s There, in bright mail, diftorted heroes fhine. The peeping fan, in modern times, shall rife, Through which, unfeen, the female ogle flies ; This fhall, in temples, the fly maid conceal, And shelter love, beneath devotion's veil. As learned orators, that touch the heart, With various action raise their soothing art, Both head and hand affect the lift'ning throng, And humour each expression of the tongue; So fhall each paffion, by the fan, be feen, From noify anger, to the fullen spleen.
ODE TO LEVEN WATER.
N Leven's banks, while free to rove,
I envied not the happiest swain
PURE ftream! in whofe transparent wave My youthful limbs I wont to lave; No torrents ftain thy limpid fource; No rocks impede thy dimpling course, That fweetly warbles o'er its bed, With white, round, polish'd pebbles spread; While, lightly pois'd, the fcaly brood, In miriads, cleave thy cryftal flood: The springing trout, in fpeckled pride; The falmon, monarch of the tide The ruthless pike, intent on war; The filver eel, and motled par. Devolving from thy parent lake, A charming maze thy waters make, By bowers of birch, and groves of pine, And hedges, flower'd with eglantine,
STILL on thy banks, so gaily green,
INVITATION TO THE FEATHERED RACE.
GAIN the balmy zephyr blows, Fresh verdure decks the grove; Each bird, with vernal rapture, glows, And tunes his notes to love.
Ye gentle warblers! hither fly,
Here, freely hop, from fpray to spray;
Here, rove and fing the live-long day;
Amid this cool translucent rill,
No fchool-boy rude, to mischief prone,
Or twangs his bow, or hurls a stone,
Hither the vocal thrush repairs;
Sad Philomel! ah, quit thy haunt,
And, round my friendly grotto, chant
Let not the harmless red-breaft fear,
My trees for you, ye artless tribe!
For you, thefe cherries I protect;
Let, then, this league betwixt us made,
WEET AUBURN! lov'lieft village of the plain! Where health and plenty cheer'd the labouring fwain; Where fmiling fpring its earliest visit paid, And parting fummer's ling'ring blooms delay'd: Dear lovely bowers of innocence and ease! Seats of my youth, when every sport could pleafe!' How often have I loiter'd o'er thy green, Where humble happiness endear'd each scene: