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ESSAY S.

Or if his little throat was dry,
A filver ftream ran gently by:
All these pure joys his heart difdain'd,
Ambition long had reafon chain'd.
"Shall I," said he, "of plumage gay,
"Mong meaner birds here deign to stay?
Should I towards fome fplendid dome
My flight direct, and leave my home,
Who knows what fortune then may do?
I'll fay no more-ye groves adieu.”
Away he flew, in thought clate,
Fancy did future joys create;

Thro' realms unknown he skimm'd his way,
The hope of pleasure made him gay.
At length a peafant's houfe he fpy'd,
The door of which was open'd wide;
Some corn was ftrew'd upon the floor,
(Fu's lay conceal'd behind the door)

hopp'd our hero, look'd around,
Then pick'd the grain from off the ground.
At length a noife alarm'd his car,
His little bofom beat with fear;
Soon did the bird a cat defery,
But what of that?-he'd wings to fly.
Thus oft, fecure in thought, we find
The table prov'd in human kind.
The cat with art return'd again,
Advent'rous Dick peck'd up the grain;
His foe from fecret ambush flew,
The aim fhe took was much too true;
He fell a victim to her rage,
Nought but his life could it affuage:
But e'er his little breath was gone,
fe thus addrefs'd the lookers on-
Take warning hence all ye that fee
The destiny that waits on me;
Le not ambitious thoughts impel
To wander where deftructions dwell:
Or if thro' danger's paths you ftray,
Let cantion guide you thro' the way."

HENRIETTA.

On being pricked by a THORN under a withered ROSE.

A A

Muft leave his native home one day;
His happy rural home forfook,
The fragrant mead, the cooling brook,
Where oft without alarm he fray'd,
No fear invades the woodland fhade.
Soon as the morning fun appear'd,
So foon his little fong was heard;
And when opprefs'd with noontide heat,
The fhady grove gave fweet retreat ;

TTENTIVE view yon drooping rose,
How feebly bends it languid head;
No more in leaf with vermil glows,
But all its blushing tints are fled.

Yet tho' great Nature's dread command
Forbids the azure flow'r to live;
Its prickly guard, a threat ning band,

Thro' winter's latest gloom furvive.

And

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Not the gay tenants of the fhade
More freedom have to roam;
I'll ne'er thy peaceful haunts in vade,
Or quit my hapless home.

Nor if, perchance, the gentle air
Shou'd waft my fighs to thee,
E'en wou'd I ask one generous tear
Of tender sympathy.

No, no, the pity's dearly bought
That gives that bosom pain,
Where cv'ry noble paffion's wrought,
Where never dwelt disdain.

Tho' fate to me thy charms deny,
Thou gntly footh'd my pain;
Thy pitying tear, thy tender figh
Forbid me to complain.

Thy gentle accent ftill I hear,
I feel thy toft diltress,

Th' alternate hope, the anxious fear
That did my toul poffefs.

Yon bid farew Il, and by that word

My heart o'ercharg'd with woe;
Still, ftilt I feel, tho fcarce I heard
Your's was not to bellow.

May heaven (which is my ardent pray)
Thy fick'ning bloom renew!
May health's decline, and anxious care,
Soon take their flight from you!

O may the youth that has thy heart
Like me thy virtues know!
May he with equal warmth impart,
With equal paffion glow!

Should he, a ft anger to the worth,
Alone thy beautics fee,

O may he know thy matchlefs truth,
And feel its pow'r like me.

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POETRY.,

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ANZAS on a YOUNG LADY, in the
Eighth Year of her Age.

TOME, Fancy, paint a cherub bright,
Of a majestic mien;

1 grace and dignity unite,
In ev'ry motion feen.

r auburn locks, devoid of art, In beauteous ringlets flow; er eyes, of heav'nly blue, impart Whate'er her thoughts beftow.

te rofe's hue her cheeks difclofe, But oh! her fmiles delight,

d mental charms on fbine the rose, Clear as the noon-day bright.

e reads with unaffected voice,
In accents sweet and clear,
rbleft Redeemer's birth and cross,
And charms thy lift'ning ear.

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HESE lines I fend thee from a diftant fhore, [more! t know that love fhall be my theme no Then first thy image in my fancy roll'd, fprightly ftrains my growing fame I told; eft in thy fight I tun'd my am'rous lay, s birds fing gladly to the morning ray: ow far from thee, now far from all the fair, he mournful mufe a graver drefs must wear; hen worn by grief our fofter paffions die, omething like wisdom must their place fupply: [known,

x'd among ftrangers, friendlefs and unfimile in public, but in private groan.

495

Yet tho' my heart has loft its former spring,
My foul, e'en here, is ever on the wing;
The bufy fprite, when grateful fleep defcends,
Flies o'er the deep, and vifits all her friends;
Then, only then, I fee my charming dame;
Oh! must we never meet but in a dream!
What hinder'd me, thy first thy fondest flave,
My hand to give thee, as my heart I gave?
Marriage itself wou'd need no grace divine
To fix its ftamp upon fuch love as mine;
A love fo true, fo tender, and so strong,
Might laft for ages, cou'd we last as long:
Fate, furely fate o'er human things prefides,
'Tis paffion drives us, but 'tis fate that guides.
I met thee first (can`st thou forget that hour?)-
Fair, frelk, and fragrant as an April flow'r;
Thy voice was fweeter than the fofteft ftrings,
Thine eyes had light'ning, and thy heart had
wings:

We lov'd-how well avails not now to fay;
How long-alas! 'twas only for a day!
'Tis not a river, nor a mountain's brow,
But realms and oceans that divide us now;
From love's long reign no commerce we derive,
Ye gods! how ftrange! and yet we're both a-

live!

On the fame moon at once we fix our eyes,
And the fame fun invites us both to rife!
How foon our joys, our beit connections end!
How vain to feek a mistress, or a friend!
Now fhall we reft, by adverfe fortune croft,
Dead to the world, as to each other loft!
Forbid it heav'n! thy honour felt no ftain,
And beauty ftill muft tempt thee to be vain:
No true affliction touch'd thy heart as yet,
But fuch as all true Chriftians must forget:
With me life's idie holydays are o'er,
Bafe I purfue, but aim at joy no more.
Wedlock for thee her mingled fruits prepares,
Ten thousand pleafures, and ten thousand
cares!

Shine forth, my fair, as in thy greener days,
And make the world behold thee with amaze!
Let that pure paffion which I taught to grow
Shed all its fweets on fome accomplish'd beau;
But still with prudence let thy love be mix'd,'
And know the man before thy choice is fix'd;
Such airs as thine no vulgar foul can fit,
Whose boafted wifdom is but want of wit:
No charms thou haft a mifer's heart to hold,
If not thy hair, for fure thy hair is gold.
Rakes will, inconftant, from the nuptial bow'r-
Fly off, like infects when they taste the flow'r;
But fhould'ft thou meet a faithful, gen'rous
fwain,
[gain;

Whofe artless love cou'd warm thy heart a-
If to fome fool thy partial friends incline,
Thy doom is feal'd, and 'tis in vain to whine:
Say, fhall the blood these beauteous cheeks for-
fake,
[speak?
When the grim parfon bids, and bids the
fee thee trembling betwixt grief and fear,
I fee the flow, the fad-confenting tear!
The words are faid, the lovely bride undrest-
Alas! my foul is ftartled at the reft!
Go! be the flave of fome ill-natur'd drone,
And mix his words, his manners with thy own;

of

Of worldly care, of grave devotion full,
Be close, be ferious, phlegmatic, and dull;
Expect no more with airy nymphs to roam,
Pray for thy spouse, and fit content at home;
Nor dare to flutter at th' approach of spring,
A pale, a wedded, a forgotten thing!
Whate'er thy lot, be poor, be rich, or great,
Ah! ftill be mindful of thy future state!
Tho' now thy charms the force of time defy,
Tho' young folks fancy thou can't never die,
Years, fickness, death, must fink that beau-
teous frame,

And all nature fhall be ftill the fame ;
yet
The bufy world will take its ufual round,
New fashions spread, new vanities abound;
New charms arife, new wits thefe charms a-
dore,

And lovers rove, as we have rov'd before.
While thefe reflections in my fancy roll,
An awful fadnefs preys upon my foul;
The fair, fond fex with horror I behold,
My pride is humbled, and my heart grows

cold.

But, oh! when wand'ring o'er my native place,
My fancy refts on that enchanting face;
With grief I view the joys I left behind,
And with-alas! our wishes are but wind!
Can ought retrieve this fad reverse of fate?
Mult we repent, and yet repent too late?
So long to woo, fo quickly to refign!
Was this, O nymph! thy lover s fault or thine?
What fiend deterr'd us from the facred ties?
What phrenzy fnatch'd us from each other's
eyes?

No more we meet on fome appointed day,
No more in fighs our facred thoughts convey!
Thofe hopes have perith'd which we nurs'd fo

long,

And all our loves are nothing but a fong!
Yet, whilft we live, let friendship's purer beam
Warm the dear relics of that hapless flame!
With pleasure fill thy image I embrace,
Still in my heart thou haft a fifter's place;
And were my fortune equal to my mind,
Thou should't be bleft above all woman kind.
Alas! with fpleen and idle fancies fraught,
And never rich a moment but in thought;
To dear friends no comfort I can give,
my
But just to tell them that as yet I live;
To thee, whofe virtue ftill my foul reveres,
To thee, whole griefs my grateful bofom
fhares,

This empty figh is all I can bestow;
Farewell! my fair, my charming Polly! oh!

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II.

Deign, gen'rous sportsman, deign to spare
Us plumed inhabitants of air,
That hop and inoffenfive rove
From field to field, from grove to grove.
III.

To my petition lend an ear,
Redrefs an humble fuppliant's pray'r;
Extend thy mercy, let me live,
"Tis all I afk-'tis thine to give.
IV.

With pleasure let thy goodness vie,
Or with me let my partner die;
Nor feek to difunite a pair
That e'er in love has prov'd fincere.
V.

Thus while we love, O let us live,
Nor let the one for t'other grieve;
Then with united voice we'll join,
And with the sportsman joys divine.
Strand.
HENRIETTA C-P-K.

LINES written by the AUTHOR on the Morn of her Departure from

T

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Addreffed to MR. and MRS. C. "Fain I in gratitude wou'd fomething say, But I'm too far in debt for thanks to pay." HE morning dawns, th' approaching day Bids me prepare, to hafte away; Advance, my mufe, my feelings tell, When I pronounce that word farewell. Farewell, dear friends, tho' far remov'd, Yet let me ftill by you be lov'd; Your gen'rous goodness shown to me For ever shall remember'd be: Where e'er I am, where e'er I rove, By purling rill, in filent grove, Or in the midft of crowded hall, Or when I gayly lead the ball, 'Till life its latest hour extends I'll ne'er 'till then forget my friends. Eafon.

CLARA.

A REPLY to the above LINES, by a YOUTH of Fourteen.

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HUDSON,

The

HAWTHORN

BOWER.

The Words by the late Mr. CUNNINGHAM, fet to Mufic by Mr.

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ght, the 8th

ous eruption agined, and experienced.

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