Puslapio vaizdai
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As waving fresh their glad fome wing,
My weary foul they feem to foothe,
And, redolent of joys and youth,
To breathe a fecond fpring.

Say, father THAMES, (for thou haft feen
Full many a fprightly race,

Difporting on thy margent green,
The paths of pleasure trace,)

Who foremost now delights to cleave
With pliant arms thy glaffy wave?
The captive linnet which enthrall?
What idle progeny fucceed

To chafe the rolling circle's fpeed,
Or urge the flying ball?

While fome on earneft business bent
Their murm'ring labours ply,

'Gainft graver hours, that bring constraint To sweeten liberty:

Some bold adventurers difdain

The limits of their little reign,
And unknown regions dare defcry,
Still as they run, they look behind,
They hear a voice in every wind,
And fnatch a fearful joy.

Gay hope is theirs by fancy fed,
Lefs pleafing when poffefs'd;
The tear forgot as foon as fhed,
The fun-fhine of the breaft:
Theirs buxom health of rofy hue,
Wild wit, invention ever-new,
And lively chear of vigour born;
The thoughtless day, the eafy night,
The fpirits pure, the flumbers light,
That fly th' approach of morn.

Alas, regardless of their doom,
The little victims play!

No fenfe have they of ills to come,
No care beyond to-day:

Yet fee how all around them wait
The minifters of human fate,

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And

And black misfortune's baleful train!
Ah, fhew them where in ambush stand,
To feize their prey the murth'rous band!
Ah, fhew them they are men!

These shall the fury-paffions tear,
The vultures of the mind,
Difdainful anger, pallid fear,
And fhame that fculks behind
Or pining love fhall wafte their youth,
Or jealoufy with rankling tooth,
That inly gnaws the fecret heart,
And envy wan, and faded care,
Grim-vifag'd comfortless defpair,
And forrow's piercing dart.

Ambition this fhall tempt to rife,
Then whirl the wretch from high,
To bitter fcorn a facrifice,
And grinning infamy.

The ftings of falfhood thofe fhall try,
And hard unkindness' alter'd eye,
That mocks the tear it forc'd to flows
And keen remorfe with blood defil'd,
And moody madnefs laughing wild.
Amidst severest woe.

Lo, in the vale of years beneath

A grifly 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 ftrains,
Thofe in the deeper vitals rage:

Lo, poverty, to fill the band,

That numbs the foul with icy hand,

And flow-confuming age.

To each his fuff'rings; all are men,

Condemn'd alike to groan;

The tender for another's pain,

Th' unfeeling for his own.

Yet ah! why fhould they know their fate! od 2919

Since forrow never comes too late,

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And

And happiness too fwiftly flies.
Thought would deftroy their paradife.
No more; where ignorance is blifs,"
'Tis folly to be wife..

ODE on the DEATH of a. FAVOURITE CAT:

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II..

Her confcious tail her joy declar'd;
The fair round face, the fnowy beard,
The velvet. of her paws,

The coat that with the tortoife vies,
Her ears of jet, and emerald eyes,
She faw; and purr'd applaufe.

III.

Still had fhe gaz'd: but 'midft the tide
Two beauteous forms were feen to glide,
The Genii of the ftream;

Their fcaly armour's Tyrian hue
Thro' richest purple to the view
Betray'd a golden gleam.

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The haplefs nymph with wonder faw:
A whifker firft and then a claw,
With many an ardent with,

She ftretch'd in vain to reach the prize.
What female heart can gold defpife?
What cat's averfe to fish?

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V.

Prefumptuous maid! with looks intent
Again the ftretch'd, again fhe bent,
Nor knew the gulf between ;
(Malignant Fate fat by and fmil'd)
The flipp'ry verge her feet beguil'd,
She tumbled headlong in.

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VII.

From hence, ye Beauties, undeceiv'd,
Know, one falfe ftep is ne'er retriev'd,
And be with caution bold.

Not all that tempts your wand'ring eyes
And heedlefs hearts, is lawful prize;
Nor all, that glifters, gold."

TH

ADVICE

to a LADY.

[Lord LYTTLETON.]

HE counfels of a friend, Belinda, hear,
Too roughly kind to please a lady's ear,
Unlike the flatt'ries of a lover's pen,

Such truths as women feldom learn from men.
Nor think I praife you ill, when thus I fhow
What female vanity might fear to know;
Some merit's mine, to dare to be fincere,
But greater your's, fincerity to bear.

Hard is the fortune that your fex attends;
Women, like princes, find no real friends:
All who approach them their own ends purfue:
Lovers and minifters are never true.
Hence oft from reafon heedlefs beauty ftrays,
And the most trufted guide the moft betrays:
Hence by fond dreams of fancy'd pow'r amus'd,
When most you tyrannize, you're most abus'd.

What

What is your fex's earlieft, latest care,
Your heart's fupreme ambition? To be fair:
For this the toilet ev'ry thought employs,
Hence all the toils of drefs, and all the joys:
For this, hands, lips, and eyes are put to school,
And each inftructed feature has its rule:

And yet how few have learnt, when this is giv'n,
Not to difgrace 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 poffefs
An elegance of mind, as well as drefs;
Be that your ornament, and know to please
By graceful nature's unaffected eafe.

Nor make to dang'rous wit a vain pretence,.
But wifely reft content with modeft sense;
For wit, like wine, intoxicates the brain,
Too ftrong for feeble woman to sustain;
Of thofe who claim it, more than half have none,
And half of thofe who have it, are undone..

Be ftill fuperior to your fex's arts,
Nor think difhonefty a proof of parts;
For you the plaineft is the wifeft rule;
A cunning woman is a knavifh fool..

Be good yourself, nor think another's fhameCan raise your merit, or adorn your fame.

Virtue is amiable, mild, ferene,
Without, all beauty, and all peace within:
The honour of a prude is rage and ftorm,
"Tis uglinefs in its moft frightful form:
Fiercely it ftands defying gods and men,
As fiery monsters guard a giant's den.

Seek to be good, but ant's den.

not to be great,
A woman's nobleft ftation is retreat;
Her faireft virtues fly from public fight,
Domeftic worth, that fhuns too ftrong a light.

To rougher man ambition's tafk refign: 'Tis ours in fenates or in courts to fhine, To labour for a funk corrupted state,

Or dare the

rage of envy, and be great.
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