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The DISTRESSED DAMSEL.
F all my experience how vaft the amount, Since fifteen long winters I fairly can count! Was ever a damfel fo fadly betray'd,
To live to thefe years and yet ftill be a maid ?
Ye heroes triumphant, by land and by sea,
Ye lawyers fo juft, who with flippery tongue,
Can do what you please, or with right, or with wrong,
Can it be, or by law or by equity said,
That a buxom young girl ought to die an old maid ?
Ye learned phyficians, whofe excellent skill
Ye fops, I invoke, not to lift to my song,
The FAIR RECLUSE.
E ancient patriarchs of the wood,
In verdant age, that ever blooms.
At once fo fimple and so great.
Nought fhou'd be chain'd, but what we dread.
Say, muft these tears for ever flow?
And leaves me leifure to lament.
My guardian fee !---who wards off peace,
Who bids the tongue of transport cease,
Freedom of air alone is giv'n,
To aggravate, not footh my grief, To view th' immensely-diftant heav'n, My nearest prospect of relief..
To Mifs ****
one of the Chichester Graces.
Written in Goodwood Gardens, September 1750.
E hills that overlook the plains,
"Where wealth and Gothic greatness reigns, "Where Nature's hand by Art is check'd, "And Tafte herfelf is architect;
"Ye fallows grey, ye forefts brown,
I faid---when dearest of her kind
But then---her voice l---how fram'd t' endear!
Ah me! thou sweet, delicious maid,