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"Ah me! I fear in borrow'd shape

Thou com'st, a base deceiver; Perhaps the devil, to tempt the faith Of orthodox believer.

"For once my hand, at masquerade,
A reverend friar prest;

His form as thine, but holier sounds
The ravish'd saint addrest.

"He told me vows no more were made

To senseless stone and wood, But adoration paid alone

To saints of flesh and blood,

"That rosy cheeks, and radiant eyes, And tresses like the morn,

Were given to bless the present age,

And light the age unborn:

"That maids, by whose obdurate pride
The hapless lover fell,
Were doom'd to never-dying toils

Of leading apes in Hell.

"Respect the first command,' (he cried,) 'It's sacred laws fulfil,

And well observe the precept given
To Moses,-Do not kill.'

"Thus spoke, ah yet I hear him speak!
My soul's sublime physician;
Then get thee hence, thy doctrines vile
Would sink me to perdition."

She ceas'd-the monk in shades of night
Confus'dly fled away,

And superstition's clouds dissolv'd
In sense, and beauty's ray,

TO A YOUNG LADY,

A VERY GOOD ACTRESS.

POWERFUL is beauty, when to mortal seats From Heaven descends the heaven-created good,

When fancy's glance the fairy phantom meets, Nymph of the shade, or Naiad of the flood. So blooms Celena, daughter of the skies,

Queen of the joys romantic rapture dreams, Her cheeks are summer's damask rose, her eyes Steal their quick lustre from the morning's beams.

Her airy neck the shining tresses shade;
In every wanton curl a Cupid dwells:
To these, distrusting in the Graces' aid,

She joins the mighty charms of magic spells. Man, hapless man, in vain destruction flies, With wily arts th' enchantress nymph pursues; To varying forms, as varying lovers rise,

Shifts the bright Iris of a thousand hues. Behold th' austere divine, opprest by years, Colics, and bulk, and tithes engend❜red care; The sound of woman grates his aching ears, Of other woman than a scripture fair. Sudden she comes a Deborah bright in arms,

Or wears the pastoral Rachel's ancient mien; And now, as glow gay-flushing eastern charms, He sighs like David's son for Sheba's queen.

To Change the China trader speeds his pace,

Nor heeds the chilly North's unripening dames; 'Tis her's with twinkling eyes, and lengthen'd face,

And pigmy foot, to wake forgotten flames.
She oft, in likeness of th' Egyptian Crone,

Too well inform'd, relates to wand'ring swains
Their amorous plaints preferr'd to her alone:
Her own relentless breast too well explains.
See, at the manor's hospitable board

Enters a sire, by infant age rever'd;
From shorten'd tube exhaling fumes afford
The incense bland that clouds his forky beard.
Conundrums quaint, and puns of jocund kind,
With rural ditties, warm th' elated 'squire,
Yet oft sensations quicken in his mind,

Other than ale and jocund puns inspire.
The forms where bloated Dropsy holds her seat,
He views, unconscious of magicians' guiles,
Nor deems a jaundic'd visage lov'd retreat
Of graces, young desires, and dimpled smiles.
Now o'er the portal of an antique hall

A Grecian form the raptur'd patriot awes,
The hoary bust and brow severe recall

Lycurgus, founder of majestic laws.
Awhile entranc'd, he dreams of old renown,
And freedom's triumph in Platean fields,
Then turns-relaxing sees the furrow'd frown,
To melting airs the soften'd marble yields.

I see the lips as breathing life, he cries,
On icy cheeks carnation blooms display'd,
The pensive orbs are pleasure-beaming eyes
And Sparta's lawgiver a blushing maid.
There, at the curtains of the shudd'ring youth,
Stiff, melancholy, pale, a spectre stands,
Some love-lorn virgin's shade-O! injur'd truth,
Deserted phantom, and ye plighted hands,
He scarce had utter'd-from his frantic gaze
The vision fades-succeeds a flood of light.
O friendly shadows, veil him, as the blaze

Of beauty's sun emerging from the night.
Here end thy triumphs, nymph of potent charms,
The laurel'd bard is Heaven's immortal care;
Him nor illusion's spell nor philter harms,

Nor music floating on the magic, air.
The myrtle wand this arm imperial bears,

Reluctant ghosts and stubborn elves obey:
Its virtuous touch the midnight fairy fears,
And shapes that wanton in Aurora's ray.

I ceas'd; the virgin came in native grace,
With native smiles that strengthen beauty's
O vain the confidence of mortal race! [chain:
My laurel'd head and myrtle wand are vain.
Again wild raptures, kindling passions rise,

As once in Andover's autumnal grove,
When looks that spoke, and eloquence of sighs,
Told the soft mandate of another's love.

TO AN ACCOMPLISHED LADY.

IN THE MANNER OF WALLER. O NYMPH! than blest Pandora honour'd more, What gods to grace thee lavish all their store!

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READING JULIA WITH TEARS, DURING A HARD FROST
WHAT, though descending as the dews of morn,
On misery's sighs your tear of virtue waits;
Forget the fallen Julia! you were born

For heart-expanding joys and smiling fates.
To sooth with social pleasures human cares,

To call the Muse to Thames' frozen glades,
To wake the slumb'ring spring with vernal airs,
And plant an Eden in December's shades;
To deck, like Eve, with soft officious haste,
Your banquet, worthiest of her angel guest ;
Amid the flowers that crown the fair repast

A flower yourself, the fairest of the feast.
There the great Giver for his bounties given
Your grateful consort blessing, blesses too
The sweet dispenser of the gifts of Heaven,

In wonder's silent prayer he blesses you: Your infants there reflecting round the board, Materual graces while his eye approves ; One tear to rapture give!-then sit ador'd The gentle mother of the smiles and loves.

'See Milton's Paradise Lost, Book v. from line 303.

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THOUGH to Hymen's gay season belong
Light airs, and the raptures of youth;
Yet listen to one sober song;

O listen, fair Stella, to truth.
Farewell to the triumphs of beauty,

To the soft serenade at your bower,
To the lover's idolatrous duty,

To his vigils in midnight's still hour.
To your frowns darting amorous anguish,
To your smiles chasing every care,
To the power of your eyes lively languish,
To each glance waking hope or despair.
Farewell to soft bards, that in Heaven
Dipt the pencil to picture your praise,
And blended the colours of even,

With morning's gay opening rays:
They no longer on Thames shall proclaim you
A Naiad new sprung from the flood,
Nor to Bushy's soft echoes shall name you
Bright Dian, the queen of the wood.
Farewell to love's various season,

Smiling days hung with tempests and night;
But welcome the reign of fair reason,

O! welcome securer delight.

O! welcome, in nature's own dress,
Purest pleasures of gentler kind;
O! welcome the power to bless,

To redeem fortune's wrongs on mankind.
Be a goddess indeed, while you borrow
From plenty's unlimited store,

To gild the wan aspect of sorrow,

To cheer the meck eyes of the poor.

When your virtues shall mix with the skies,
When your beauty, bright phenix, decays,
In your image new graces shall rise,

And enlighten posterity's days.
Future ages shall trace every air;

Every virtue deriv'd to your blood
Shall remember that Stella was fair,
Shall remember that Stella was good.

SONG.

No gandy Rubens ever dare

With flaunting genius, rosy loves,
To crowd the scene, in sunshine's glare,
Exposing her the Muse approves.
Let, chaste Poussin, thy shaded stream
Reflect her pensive, tender air;
Let evening veil with sober beam,

In bashful night the bashful fair.

VERSES

WRITTEN AFTER PASSING THROUGH FINDON, SUSSEX, 1768. ADDRESSED TO THE REV. Mr. WoodDESON, OF KINGSTON UPON THAMES.

WOODDESON! these eyes have seen thy natal earth;

Thy Findon, sloping from the southern downs, Have blest the roof ennobled by thy birth, And tufted valley, where no ocean frowns. Thou wert not born to plough the neighbouring main,

Or plant thy greatness near ambition's throne, Or count unnumber'd fleeces on thy plain: -The Muses lov'd and nurs'd thee for their own!

And twin'd thy temples here with wreaths of worth, [morn, And fenc'd thy childhood from the blights of And taught enchanting song, and sent thee forth To stretch the blessing to an age unborn: Best blessing!-what is pride's unwieldy state? What awkward wealth from Indian oceans given?

What monarchs nodding under empires' weight, If science smile not with a ray from Heaven? Witness yon ruins, Arundel's high tower,

And Bramber, now the bird of night's resort! Your proud possessors reign'd in barbarous power;

The war their business, and the chase their sport;

"Till there a minstrel, to the feast preferr'd, With Cambrian harp, in Gothic numbers charm'd,

Enlighten'd chiefs grew virtuous as they heard-The sun of science in its morning warm'd.How glorious, when it blaz'd in Milton's light, And Shakespear's flame, to full meridian day! Yet smile, fair beam! though sloping from that height,

Gild our mild evening with a setting ray.

TO A LADY.

THE simple swain, where Zembla's snows
Are bound in frozen chains,
Where scarce a smile the Sun bestows
To warm the sullen plains;

The author of these poems had been educated under this gentleman, for whom he ever retained the most affectionate regard. Mr. Wooddeson was, in truth, one of those amiable beings whom none could know without loving.-To the abilities of an excellent scholar was united a mind so candid, so patient, so replete with universal benevolence, that it glowed in every action. His life was an honour to himself, to religion, to human nature. He preserved to his death such a simplicity of manners as is rarely to be met with. He judged of the world by the standard of his own virtuous heart; and few men who had seen such length of days ever left it so little acquainted with it.

Not once conceives that Sun to rise
With kinder, brighter ray,
Nor southern vales, Hesperian skies,
To bask in smiling day.

As weak my thoughts respecting thee
Must thou, my better sun,
Because but smiling cold on me,
Be therefore warm to none?

STANZAS.

Where more is meant than meets the ear.
MILTON

THE bird of midnight swell'd her throat,
The virgins listen'd round
To sorrow's deeply-warbled note,

To sweet but solemn sound:
When soon the lark ascending high,
In sun-beams idly play'd;
As soon to greet him, see, they fly-
One pensive virgin stay'd.

She stay'd to hear the mourner sing;
The rest, to nature true,
The flutter of the gayer wing
The vacant song pursue.

TO A YOUNG LADY,

WHO OBJECTED TO SUP WITH A PARTY OF BOTH.
SEXES THAT MET AT A COFFEE-HOUSE.

O FAR from Caroline, so soft a maid,
Be cruel coyness, pride, and cold disdain!
Who now of man, the monster man, afraid,
Flies the gay circle of the social train.
Away vain fears! away suspicious dreams,
From beauty, virtue, tenderness, and truth;
From eyes that dawn with wisdom's mildest
beams,

d;

From harmless smiles that wait on gentle youth.
Far other years and other nymphs befit
The prudish form, and high forbidding brow:
With others dwell, or frowns or scornful wit,
With nymphs less innocent, less fair than thou:
With her, whose youth, of virtue's mild control
Impatient, rush'd on wanton wild desires;
Now prayer or scandal cheers the gloomy soul
That pines in secret with forbidden fires:
Or her that triumph'd in her lover's sighs,
As round their brows the willow garlands bend
She now dejected, now deserted lies,
Without a lover, and without a friend!
Another fate is youthful virtue's share:
Come with the graces, gentle maid, along;
Come, fairest thou among the young and fair,
To lead the dance, or join the virgins' song,
Come listen to the tale that youths complain,
To thousand tows, in amorous sighs addrest;
Propitious listen to the raptur'd strain.
When chaste majestic passions swell the breast.
Too long exterior charms of radiant eyes,
And blushing cheeks, the captive sense control;
Thy forms, fair harmony, too long we prize,
Forget the fairer, more harmonious soul.

Too long the lovers for an empty fair
At heedless ease inglorious arts advance;
Enough for them to deck the flowing hair,
Or flutter gaudy with the pride of France.
From worth with beauty nobler lessons taught,
Each youth that languishes, his flame shall prove
By generous action or heroic thought,
And merit fame by arts that merit love.

Shall once again the Grecian lyre be strung,
Restoring Hymen's mild Arcadian reign?
Shall patriot eloquence instruct, the tongue,
And spoils be gather'd from the martial plain?
O! far unlike to such celestial flame
The passion kindled from impure desires;
Fatal to friends, to fortune, and to fame,
The momentary flash in night expires.

Love's lambent fire that beams from virtue's rays,
Each sordid passion as it burns, refin'd,
Still bright and brighter with benignant blaze
Embraces friends, a country, humankind.

Wr

A DREAM.

In bridal cake beneath her head,
As Jenny prest her pillow,
She dreamt that lovers, thick as hops,
Hung pendent from the willow.

Around her spectres shook their chains,
And goblins kept their station ;
They pull'd, they pinch'd her, till she swore
To spare the male creation.

Before her now the buck, the beau,

The squire, the captain trips;
The modest seiz'd her hand to kiss,
The forward seiz'd her lips.

For some she felt her bosom pant,
For some she felt it smart;

To all she gave enchanting smiles,
To one she gave her heart.

She dreamt (for magic charms prevail'd,
And fancy play'd her farce on)
That, soft reclin'd in elbow-chair,

She kist a sleeping parson.

She dreamt-but, O rash Muse! forbear,
Nor virgins dreams pursue;

Yet blest above the gods is he
Who proves such visions true.

Who devour'd in their reach, all the fruit they could meet,

The good, bad, indifferent, the bitter and sweet: But Garrick climb'd high to a plentiful crop, Then, Heavens! what vagaries he play'd on the How, now on the loose twigs, and now on the top! [tight, He stood on his head, and then bolted upright! All features, all shapes, and all passions he tried; He danc'd, and he strutted, he laugh'd, and he cried, [side! He presented his face, and he show'd his backThe noble, the vulgar, flock'd round him to see What feats he perform'd in the mulberry-tree: He repeated the pastime, then open'd to speak, But Johnson below mutter'd strophes of Greek, While Garrick proclaim'd-such a plant never grew,

So foster'd by sun-shine, by soil, and by dew, The palm-trees of Delos, Phoenicia's sweet grove,

The oaks of Dodona, though hallow'd by Jove, With all that antiquity shows to surpass us, Compar'd to this tree, were mere shrubs of Par[laid,

nassus.

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That was fish, flesh, and custard, good claret, and It compris'd every flavour, was all, and was each, Was grape, and was pine-apple, nectarine and [told,

peach;

Nay, he swore, and his audience believ'd what he That under his touch it grew apples of gold.Now he paus'd!-then recounted its virtues again[grain: 'Twas a wood for all use, bottom, top, bark, and It would saw into seats for an audience in full pits, Into benches for indges, episcopal pulpits; Into chairs for philosophers, thrones too for kings, Serve the highest of purposes, lowest of things; Make brooms to mount witches, make May-poles for May-days,

And boxes, and ink-stands, for wits and the ladics.

His speech pleas'd the vulgar, it pleas'd their THE MULBERRY TREE. superiors, [riors A TALE. By Johnson stopt short,--who his mighty posteApplied to the trunk-like a Sampson, his haunFOR London's rich city, two Staffordshire swains, ches [and shook branches! Hight Johnson, hight Garrick, forsaking their Shook the roots, shook the summit, shook stem, plains, [by his tomb Al was tremour and shock!-now descended in Reach'd Shakespeare's own Stratford, where flows showers [blighted flowers! An Avon, as proudly as Tyber by Rome. Wither'd leaves, wither'd limbs, blighted fruits, Now Garrick, (sweet imp too of Nature was he,) The fragments drew critics, bards, players along, Would climb and would eat from his mulberry-Who held by weak branches, and let go the strong; E'en Garrick had diopt with a bough that was

tree;

Yet as Johnson, less frolic, was taller, was older, He reach'd the first boughs by the help of his shoulder; [weather, Where, shelter'd from famine, from bailiffs, and Bards, critics, and players sat crowded together

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"Here's rubbish enough, till my homeward return,
For children to gather, old women to burn;
Not practis'd to labour, my sides are too sore,
Till another fit season, to shake you down more.
What future materials for pruning, and cropping,
And cleaning, and gleaning, and lopping, and
topping!
[tree,
Yet mistake me not, rabble! this tree's a good
Does honour, dame Nature, to Britain and thee;
And the fruit on the top,-take its merits in brief,
Makes a noble dessert, where the dinner's roast-
beef!"

TO A LADY.

YES; wedlock's sweet bands were too blest, in

her lover

If virtue her likeness could find,
What Plato' has fabled, could Julia recover
Her lost other half, from mankind.

What joy to receive all the good you impart,
Thy cares on another recline,
Another's fond bosom, and feel that his heart
Beats all the same measures with thine!
The features, the virtues of both, in your race,
How sweet the confusion, enjoy!

Yet more of thyself in the daughter still trace,
And more of thy lord in the boy.

Such bliss rivals Heaven-yet what grief, what

disgrace,

Were riot's low follower thy lot,

[chase,

Were he whose loud pleasures are wine and the
All love's silent pleasures forgot!

What misery to hear, without daring reply,
All folly, all insolence speaks;

Still calling the tear of reproach to thy eye,
The flush of disdain to thy cheeks!
Would soft macaronies have judgment to prize,
Whom arts and whom virtues adorn,
Who learnt every virtue and art to despise,
Where Catos and Scipios were born?

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ON AN ASIATIC LADY.

O YOU who sail on India's wealthy wave,

Of gems and gold who spoil the radiant east;
What oceans, say, what isles of fragrance gave
This fairer treasure to the joyful-west?
What banks of Ganges, and what balmy skies
Saw the first infant dawn of those unclouded eyes?
By easy arts while Europe's beauties reign,

Roll the blue languish of their humid eye;
Rule willing slaves, who court and kiss the chain,
Self-vanquish'd, helpless to resist or fly;

Would wealth's drowsy heir, without spark of Less yielding souls confess this eastern fair,

Heaven's fire,

[fate,

Enshrin'd in his dulness completely,
Awake to the charmer, her voice and her lyre,
Ah! charm they though ever so sweetly?
But what with the gamester, ab! what were thy
What fortune's caprices thy share!
To sleep upon down under canopied state,
To wake on the straw of despair!
The timid free-thinker, that only defies
Those bolts which his Maker can throw ;
Would he, when blaspheming the Lord of the
skies,

Yet rev'rence his image below?

Would slaves to a court, or to faction's banditti,
Thy temperate spirits approve;

So proud in their chains of the court and the city,
Disdaining no chains, but of love?

'Plato's fable is, that man and woman originally were one being, divided afterwards by Jupiter for their punishment; that each part, in perpetual search of the other, never recovers happiness till their reunion.

And lightning melts the heart that milder fires
would spare.

Of gods, enamour'd with a mortal dame,
Let Grecian story tell-the gifts display
That deck'd Cassandra, and each honoured name
Lov'd by the god, who guides the golden day:
See! Asia triumphs in a brighter scene;
A nobler Phoebus woos her summer's smiling
queen.

Sublimer sense, and sprightlier wit to please,

That Phoebus gave; he gave the voice and lyre, That warble sweeter than the spicy breeze,

He gave what charms meridian suns inspire; What precious rays from light's pure fountain stream,

What warm the diamond's blaze and ruby's flaming beam.

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