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Free from each ftain thy bosom keep,
Clear be it as this azure deep,
Which no capricious passion knows,
But duly ebbs, and duly flows;
Tho' sometimes ruffled, calm'd as soon,
Still constant to it's faithful moon,
At whose approach with pride it swells,
And to each fhore it's chafte love tells :
Heedless of ev'ry change of weather,
That wafts a straw, or coxcomb feather,
Which only on the surface play,
And unobserv'd are walh'd

Reflect, that lodg'd within it's breast,
The modest pearl delights to reft,
While ev'ry gem to Neptune known,
Is there with partial bounty fown.
In years, thus ever may we trace
Each sparkling charm, each blushing grace;
To these let judgment value give,
And in that seat of beauty live!

This moral keep before your eyes ;
Plunge-and a new-born Venus rife.





APPY the babe, whofe natal hour

H The Mufe propitious deigns to grace;

No frowns on his soft forehead lour,

No cries diftort his tender face :
But o'er her child, forgetting all her pangs,
Insatiate of her smiles, the raptur'd parent hangs.


Let statesmen, on the fleepless bed,

The fate of realms and princes weigh,
While in the agonizing head

They form ideal scenes of sway;
Not long, alas! the fancied charms delight,
But melt, like spectre-forms, in filent shades of night,

Ye heavy pedants, dull of lore,

Nod o'er the taper's livid Aame;
Ye misers, still increase your store;

Still tremble at the robber's name:
Or shudd'ring from the recent dream arise,
While visionary fire glows dreadful to your eyes.

Far other joys the Muses Show'r,

Benignant, on the aching breast;
'Tis theirs, in the lone, chearless hour,

To lull the lab'ring heart to reft:
With bright'ning calms they glad the prospect drear,
And bid each groan fublide, and dry up ev'ry tear.

From earthly mifts, ye gentle Nine !

Whene'er you purge the visual ray,
Sudden the landscapes fairer line,

And blander smiles the face of day:
E'en Chloe's lips with brighter vermil glow,
And on her youthful cheek the rose-buds fresher blow.

When Boreas founds his fierce alarms,

And all the green-clad nymphs are fled,
Oh! then I lie, in Fancy's arms,

On fragrant May's delicious bed;
And thro' the lhade, slow-creeping from the dale,
Feel on my drowly face the lily breathing gale,


Or on the mountain's airy height

Hear Winter call his howling train,
Chac'd by the spring and Dryads light,

That now refume their blissful reign:
While smiling Flora binds her zephyrs brows,
With ev'ry various flow'r that Nature's lap bestows.

More potent than the Sybil's gold,

That led Æneas' bold emprize;
When you, Calliope, unfold

Your laurel branch, each phantom fies!
Slow Cares with heavy wings beat the dull air,
And Dread, and pale-ey'd Grief, and Pain and black Despair.

With you Elysium's happy bow'rs,

The mansions of the glorious dead,
I visit oft, and cull the flow'rs

That rise spontaneous to your tread:
Such active virtue warms that pregnant earth,
And Heav'n with kindlier hand aslifts each genial birth.

Here oft I wander thro' the gloom,

While pendent fruit the leaves among
Gleams thro' the shade with golden bloom,

Where lurk along the feather'd throng,
Whose notes th'eternal spring unceasing chear,
Nor leave in mournful silence half the drooping year.

And oft I view along the plain,

With flow and solemn steps proceed,
Heroes and chiefs, an awful train !

And high exalt the laurell'd head;
Submiss I honour every facred name,
Deep in the column grav'd of adamantine Fame.


But cease, my Muse, with tender wing

Unfledg'd, etherial Alight to dare,
Stern Cato's bold discourse to sing,

Or paint immortal Brutus' air ;
May Britain ne'er the weight of flav'ry feel,
Or bid a Brutus shake for her his crimfon steel!

Lo! yonder, negligently laid

Fast by the stream's impurpled fide,
Where thro' the thick-entangled fhade,

The radiant waves of nectar glide,
Each facred poet strikes his tuneful lyre,
And wakes the ravish'd heart, and bids the foul aspire.

No more is heard the plaintive strain,

Or pleasing Melancholy's song,
Tibullus here forgets his pain,

And joins the love-exulting throng;
For Cupid Autters round with golden dart,
And fiercely twangs his bow at ev'ry rebel heart,

There stretch'd at ease Anacreon gay,

And on his melting Lesbia's breaft,
With eye half-rais'd Catullus lay,

And, gaz’d himself to balmy rest :
While Venus' self thro' all the am'rous groves
With kisses, fresh-diftill's, fupply'd their conftant loves.

Now Horace' hand the string infpir’d,

My soul, impatient as he sung,
The Mufe unconquerable fir'd,

And heav'nly accents seiz'd my tongue;
Then lock'd in admiration sweet, I bow'd,
Confess’d his potent art, nor could forbear aloud:

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* Milton,

• Hail,

• Hail, glorious bard! whose high command

• A thousand various strings obey, • While joins and mixes to thy hand

• At once the bold and tender lay! • Nor mighty Homer, down Parnaffus fteep, • Rolls the full tide of verse fo clear and yet so deep.

• O could I catch one ray divine

From thy intolerable blaze!
To pour strong lustre on my line,

• And my aspiring fong to raise ;
« Then thould the Muse her choiceft influence shed,
• And with eternal wreaths entwine my lofty head.

• Then would I fing the fons of Fame,

• Th’immortal chiefs of ancient age, • Or tell of Love's celestial flame,

• Or ope fair Friendship's sacred page ; • And leave the fullen thought, and struggling groan, • To take their watchful stands around the gaudy throne.'

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HEN tuneful Orpheus Atrove by moving strains

To soothe the furious hate of rugged swains, The liftning multitude was pleas'd;

E'en Rapine dropp'd her ravish'd prey,
Till by the soft oppression feiz'd,

Each favage heard his rage away ;
And now o'ercome, in kind confent they moves
And all is harmony, and all is love!


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