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For when thy folding star arising fhews
His paly circlet, at his warning lamp

The fragrant Hours, and elves

Who slept in flow'rs the day,
And many a nymph who wreathes her brows with sedge,
And sheds the fresh'ning dew; and lovelier ftill,

The pensive Pleasures sweet;

Prepare thy shadowy car,
Then lead, calm vot'ress, where some sheety lake
Chears the lone heath, or some time-hallow'd pile,

Or upland fallows grey,

Reflect it's last cool gleam.
But when chill bluf’ring winds, or driving rain,
Forbid my willing feet, be mine the hut,

That from the mountain's fide

Views wilds, and swelling floods,
And hamlets brown, and dim-discover'd spires,
And hears their fimple bell, and marks o'er all

Thy dewy fingers draw
The gradual dusky veil.

While Spring shall pour his show'rs, as oft he wont,
And bathe thy breathing tresses, meekest Eve!

While Summer loves to sport

Beneath thy ling’ring light;
While fallow Autumn fills thy lap with leaves;
Or Winter, yelling through the troublous air,

Affrights thy shrinking train,

And rudely rends thy robes;
So long, sure-found beneath the sylvan shed,
Shall Fancy, Friendship, Science, rose-lipp'd Health,

Thy gentlest influence own,
And hymn thy fav’rite name!

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N the smooth dance to move with graceful mien,

Easy with care, and sprightly tho' ferene ;
To mark th' initructions echoing strains convey,
And with just steps each tuneful note obey ;
I teach. Be present, all ye sacred choir,
Blow the soft flute, and strike the founding lyre:
When Fielding bids, your kind asistance bring,
And at her feet the lowly tribute fling ;
Oh! may her eyes, (to her this verse is due)
What first themselves inspir’d, vouchsafe to view !

Hail, loftiest art! thou canst all hearts insnare,
And make the faireft still appear more fair.
Beauty can little execution do,
Unless she borrows half her arms from you!
Few, like Pygmalion, doat on lifeless charms,
Or care to clasy a statue in their arms;
But breasts of Aint must melt with fierce defire,
When art and motion wake the sleeping fire.
A Venus, drawn by great Apelles' hand,
May for a while our wond'ring eyes command;
But still, tho’ form'd with all the pow’rs of art,
The lifeless piece can never warm the heart:
So fair a nymph, perhaps, may please the eye,
Whilst all her beauteous limbs inactive lie;
But when her charms are in the dance display'd,
Then ev'ry heart adores the lovely maid ;

This sets her beauty in the faireft light,
And shews each grace in full perfection bright.
Then, as she turns around, from ev?ry part,
Like porcupines, she fends à piercing dart;
In vain, alas! the fond spectator tries
To thun the pleasing dangers of her eyes;
For, Parthian-like, she wounds as fure behind,
With Aowing curls, and ivory neck reclin'd.
Whether her steps the Minuet's mazes trace,
Or the slow Louvre's more majestick pace;
Whether the Rigadoon employs her care,
Or sprightly Jigg displays the nimble fair;
At ev'ry step new beauties we explore,
And worship now, what we admir'd before.
So, when Æneas, in the Tyrian grove,
Fair Venus met, the charming Queen of Love,
The beauteous goddess, whilft unmov'd she stood,
Seem'd fome fair nymph, the guardian of the wood;
But when she mov'd, at once her heav'nly mien,
And graceful step, confess'd bright Beauty's queen;
New glories o'er her form each moment rise,
And all the goddess opens to his eyes.

Now haste, my Muse, pursue thy destin'd way;
What dresses best become the dancer, fay :
The rules of dress forget not to impart,
A leffon previous to the dancing art.

The foldier's scarlet, glowing from afar,
Shews that his bloody occupation's war;
Whilst the lawn band, beneath a double chin,
As plainly speaks divinity within...
The milk-maid safe, thro' driving rains and snows,
Wrapp'd in her cloak, and propp’d on pattens, goes ;
Whilst the soft belle, immur'd in velvet chair,
Needs but the filken shoe, and trusts, her bosom bare,
The woolly drab, and English broad-cloth warm,
Guard well the horseman from the beating storm;


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Bat load the dancer with too great a weight,
And call from ev'ry pore the dewy sweat :
Rather let him his active limbs display
In camblet thin, or glossy pad uafoy.
Let no unwieldy pride his thoulders press,
But airy, light, and easy, be his dress;
Thin be his yielding fole, and low his heel,.,
So shall he nimbly bound, and safely wheel.
But let not precepts known my verse prolong;

Precepts, which use will better teach than fong :
For why fhould I the gallant spark command,
With clean white gloves to fit his ready hand!
Or in his fob enlivening spirits wear,
And pungent salts, to raise the fainting fair ?
Or hint, the sword that dangles at his fide,
Should from it's filken bandage be unty'd ?
Why should my lays the youthful tribe advise,
Leít snowy clouds from out their wigs arise ?
So shall their partners mourn their laces spoil'd,
And shining filks with greafy powder foil'd.
Nor need I, fure, bid prudent youths beware,
Left with erected tongues their buckles ftare ;
The pointed steel shall oft their stocking rend,
And oft th' approaching petticoat offend.

And now, ye youthful fair, fing to you ;
With pleasing smiles my useful labours view :
For you the filk-worms fine-wrought webs display,
And, lab'ring, spin their little lives away;
For you bright gems with radiant colours glow,
Fair as the dies that paint the heav'nly bow;
For you.the sea refigns it's pearly store,
And earth unlocks her mines of treasur'd ore.
In vain yet Nature thus her gifts bestows,
Unless yourselves with art those gifts dispose.

Yet think not,' nymphs, that in the glittring ball,
One form of dress prescrib'd can suit with all.,

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One brightest shines, when wealth and art combine
To make the finish'd piece compleatly fine ;
When least adorn'd, another steals our hearts,
And, rich in native beauties, wants no arts :
In some are such resiklefs


That in all dresses they are sure to wound;
Their perfe& forms all foreign aids despise,
And gems but borrow luftre from their eyes.

Let the fair nymph, in whofe plamp cheeks is feen
A conftant blush, be clad in chearful green:
In such a dress the fportive fea-nymphs go;
So in their graffy bed fresh roses blow.
The lass, whose skin is like the hazel brown,
With brighter yellow fhould o'ercome her own;
While maids, grown pale with fickness or despair,
The sable's mournful dye fhould chufe to wear :
So the pale moon ftill shines with pureft light,
Cloath'd in the dusky mantle of the night.

But far from you be all those treach'rous arts, That wound, with painted charms, unwary hearts. Dancing's a touchstone that true beauty tries, Nor suffers charms that Nature's hand denies: Tho' for a while we may with wonder view The rosy blush, and skin of lovely hue, Yet soon the dance will caufe the cheeks to glow, And melt the waxen lips, and neck of snow. So shine the fields, in icy fetters bound, Whilft frozen gems' bespangle all the ground. Thro' the clear chryftal of the glitt'ring faow, With scarlet dye the blushing hawthorns glow; O’er all the plains unnumber'd glories rise, And a new, bright creation, charms our eyes-;. Till Zephyr breathes: then all at once decay The splendid scenes, their glories fade away; The fields resign the beauties not their own, And all their snowy charms run trickling down.

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