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As waving fresh their glad some wing,
My weary soul they seem to foothe,
And, redolent of joys and youth,
To breathe a second spring.
Say, father THAMES, (for thou hast seen
Full many a sprightly race,
Disporting on thy margent green,
The paths of pleasure trace,
Who foremost now delights to cleave
With pliant arms thy glassy wave!
The captive linnet which enthrall?
What idle progeny fucceed
To chase the rolling circle's speed,
Or urge the flying ball ?
While some on earneft business bent
Their murm'ring labours ply,
'Gainst graver hours, that bring constraint
To sweeten liberty:
Some bold adventurers disdain
The limits of their little reign,
And unknown regions dare descry
Still as they run, they look behind,
They hear a voice in every wind,
And snatch a fearful joy.
And black misfortune's baleful train !
Ah, shew them where in ambush stand,
To seize their prey the murth’rous band !
Ah, shew them they are men!
These shall the fury-passions tear,
The vultures of the mind,
Disdainful anger, pallid fear,
And shame that sculks behind ;
Or pining love shall waste their youth,
Or jealousy with rankling tooth,
That inly gnaws the secret heart,
And envy wan, and faded care,
Grim-vilag'd comfortless despair,
And sorrow's piercing dart.
Ambition this shall tempt to rise,
Then whirl the wretch from high,
To bitter scorn a sacrifice,
And grinning infamy,
The stings of falshood those shall try,
And hard unkindness' alter'd eye,
That mocks the tear it forc'd to flow;
And keen remorse with blood defil'd,
And moody madness laughing wild
Amidst severest woe.
Lo, in the vale of years beneath
A grisly troop are seen,
The painful family of death,
More hideous than their queen:
This racks the joints, this fires the veins,
That every labouring finew strains,
Those in the deeper vitals rage:
Lo, poverty, to fill the band,
That numbs the soul with icy hand,
And flow-consuming age.
To each his suff'rings: all are men,
Condemn'd alike to groan;
The tender for another's pain,
Th' un feeling for his own.
Yet ah! why should they know their fate!
Since forrow never comes too late,
And happiness too swiftly flies.
Thought would deftroy their paradise.
No more ; where ignorance is bliss,
'Tis folly, to be wile..
ODE on the Death of a FAVOURITE CAT:
DROWNED in a TUB of GOLD-FISHES.
on a lofty vafe's fide,
Where China's gayest art had dy'd
The azure flowers that blow;
Demurest of the Tabby kind,
The pensive Selima reclin'd,
Gaz'd on the lake below.
Her conscious tail her joy declar'd;
The fair round face, the snowy beard,
The velvet, of her paws,
The coat that with the tortoise vies,
Her ears of jet, and emerald eyes,
She saw; and purr'd applause.
Still had she gaz'd: but ’midst the tide
Two beauteous forms were seen to glide,
The Genii of the stream;
Their scaly armour's Tyrian hue
Thro'richest purple to the view
Betray'd a golden gleam.
The hapless nymph with wonder faw:
A whisker first and then a claw,
With many an ardent wish,
She stretch'd in vain to reach the prize.
What female heart can gold despise?
What cat's averse to fish?
v. Prefumptuous maid! with looks intent Again the stretch'd, again the bent,
Nor knew the gulf between;
(Malignant Fate sat by and smild)
The Ripp'ry verge her feet beguilid,
She tumbled headlong in.
Eight times emerging from the flood
She mew'd to ev'ry wat'ry god,
Some speedy aid to send.
No Dolphin came, no Nereid ftirr'd:
Nor cruel Tom, nor Susan heard.
A fav’rite has no friend!
From hence, ye Beauties, undeceiv'd,
Know, one false step is ne'er retriev’d,
And be with caution bold..
Not all that tempts your wand'ring eyes
And heedless bearts, is lawful prize;
Nor all, that glifters, gold.
ADVICE to L A D Y.
HE counsels of a friend, Belinda, hear,
Unlike the flatt'ries of a lover's pen,
Such truths as women seldom learn from men.
Nor think I praise you ill, when thus I show
What female vanity might fear to know;
Some merit's mine, to dare to be sincere,
But greater your's, sincerity to bear.
Hard' is the fortune that your sex attends;
Women, like princes, find no real friends
All who approach them their own ends pursue:
Lovers and minifters are never true.
Hence oft from reason heedless beauty strays,
And the most trusted guide the most betrays:
Hence by fond dreams of fancy'd pow'r amusd,
When most you tyrannize, you're most abus’d.
What is your sex's earliest, latest care,
Your heart's supreme ambition ? To be fair:
For this the toilet ev'ry thought employs,
Hence all the toils of dress, and all the joys :
For this, -hands, lips, and eyes are put to school,
And each instructed feature has its rule:
And yet how few have learnt, when this is giv'n,
Not to disgrace the partial boon of heav'n?
How few with all their pride of form can move?
How few are lovely, that were made for love?
Do you, my Fair, endeavour to posless
An elegance of mind, as well as dress;
Be that your ornament, and know to please
By graceful nature's unaffected ease.
Nor make to dang'rous wit a vain pretence,
But wisely rest content with modeft fenfe ;
For wit, like wine, intoxicates the brain,
Too strong for feeble woman to sustain;
Of those who claim it, more than half have none,
And half of those who have it, are undone.
Be still superior to your sex’s arts,
Nor think dishonesty a proof of parts;
For you the plainest is the wifeft rule ;
A cunning woman is a knavish fool.
Be good yourself, nor think another's shame Can raise your merit, or adorn your fame.
Virtue is amiable, mild, serene,
Without, all beauty, and all peace within:
The honour of a prude is.rage and storm,
'Tis ugliness in its most frightful form:
Eiercely it stands defying gods and:
imen, As fiery monsters guard a giant's den.
Seek to be good, but aim not to be great,
A woman's noblest station is retreat;
Her faireft virtues fly from public fight,
Domestic worth, that fhuns too strong a light.
To rougher man ambition's task resign:
'Tis ours in senates or in courts to shine,
To labour for a funk corrupted state,
Or dare the rage of envy, and be great,