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TO SOME CHILDREN LISTENING TO A
See the lark prures his active wings,
When the dechning orb of light
Shall birds instructive lessons teach,
No, ye dear nestlings of my heart,
To him your evening song direct;
TO A LITTLE GIRL.
Fairest flower, all flowers excelling,
Which in Milton's page we see; Flowers of Eve's embower'd dwelling
Are, my fair one, types of thee.
Mark, my Polly, how the roses
Emulate thy damask cheek; How the bud its sweets discloses
Buds thy opening bloom bespeak,
Lilies are by plain direction
Emblems a double kind; Emblems of thy fair complexion,
Emblems of thy fairer mind.
But, dear girl, both flowers and beauty
Blossom, fade, and die away; Then pursue good sense and duty,
Evergreens! which ne'er decay.
TO A LADY ON HER BIRTH-DAY,
Youth gives the hope of many a lovely spring,
Of cheerful suns, and skies without a cloud : What to the ills of life can solace bring O'er the torn. heart where cares unnumber'd
Elate with joy and smiles we glide along
O'er many a fragrant, many a flowery plain; Nor heed the Moralist's cold warning song,
Which talks of sorrow, suffering, and pain.
But when the summer of our years
gone, When ardour chills, and vigour fades away; Oft must we wander comfortless alone,
And in NOVEMBER-look in vain for MAY.
The nightingale, with breast against a thorn,
Expiring sings her last melodious strains ; The Muse thus hails MATILDA's natal morn, · Proud of her friendship long as life remains;
May that kind power who thus auspicious gave,
A inind so gentle to a form so fair ;
From every breath of fortune's ruder air.
Wliile some dear youth shall share MATILDA's
heart, Her cares partake, her tenderness repay; The bard shall oft invoke the Muse's art,
To give these bours the bloom of love and May.
ON THE SAME SUBJECT.
Plain sober truth invokes no flattering lay,
Beauty's blue eye will lose all power to charm,
Ah! this the hour when reason loves to see
This be thy praise, ELIZA, this the theme
Mylo, forbear to call him blest
That only boasts a large estate,
Meet and conspire to make him great.
Let a broad stream with golden sands
Thro' all his meadows roll,
That wears a narrow soul.