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Nor fighs, nor charms, nor flatteries can move,
Too well fecur'd against a second love.
Once, and but once, that devil charm'd my
To reafon deaf, to obfervation blind;

mind;

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I idly hop'd (what cannot love perfuade!)
My fondness equal'd, and my love repay'd;
Slow to diftruft, and willing to believe,
Long hush'd my doubts, and did myself deceive:
But, oh! too foon--this tale would ever last ;
Sleep, fleep, my wrongs, and let me think 'em past,
For you, who mourn with counterfeited grief,
And ask fo boldly like a begging thief,

May foon fome other nymph inflict the pain,
You know fo well with cruel art to feign.
Tho' long you sported have with Cupid's dart,
You may fee eyes, and you may feel a heart.
So the brifk wits, who ftop the evening coach,
Laugh at the fear that follows their approach;
With idle mirth, and haughty scorn defpife
The paffenger's pale cheek, and staring eyes:
But feiz'd by Juftice, find a fright no jeft,
And all the terror doubled in their breaft.

In Answer to a LADY who advised

RETIREMENT.

By the Same.

Y

YOU little know the heart that

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I view this various fcene with equal eyes:
In crowded courts I find myfelf alone,

And
pay my worship to a nobler throne.
Long fince the value of this world I know,
Pity the madness, and defpife the show.
Well as I can my tedious part I bear,
And wait for my difmiffion without fear.
Seldom I mark mankind's detested ways,
Not hearing cenfure, nor affecting praise;
And, unconcern'd, my future ftate I trust
To that fole Being, merciful and just.

An Address of the STATUES at STOWE, to Lord CO BHA M, on his Return to his Gardens.

F

ROM every Muse and every art thy own,

Thy bow'rs our theatres, thy mind our throne;

Hail to thy virtues manumiz'd from state;
Hail to thy leifure to be wifely great.

Fetter'd by duties and to forms enslav❜d,
How timely have thy years a remnant fav'd!
To taste that freedom which thy sword maintain'd,
And lead in letter'd ease, a life unpain❜d:
So Scipio (Carthage fall'n) refign'd his plume,
And fmil'd at the forgetfulness of Rome.

O greatly blefs'd! whofe evening fweetest fhines,
And, in unclouded flowness, calm declines! ̧
While free reflection with reverted eye,

Wan'd from hot noon-tide and a troubled sky,
Divides life well: the largeft part, long known
Thy country's claim; the last and best thy own.
Here while detach'd, thy felf-fupported foul
Refumes dominion and escapes controul;
Moves with a grandeur, monarchs wish in vain,
Above all fears, ftorms, dangers, hopes or pain;

A glance

A glance fometimes from thy fafe fummit throw,
And see the dusty world look dim below:

Thro' the dark throng difcern huge slaves of pride
Should'ring unheeded Happiness afide;

Thwarted and push'd and lab'ring into name,
And dignify'd with all the dirt of fame;
Then with a smile superior, turn away,

And lop th' exub'rance of fome straggling spray;
Wind thro' thy mazes to ferene delight,

And from the bursting bubbles shade thy fight.

Yet where thou fhin'ft, like heav'n behind a cloud, Moving like light, all piercing, tho' not loud; The Muse shall find thee in thy blest retreat, And breathe this honeft wifh at Cobham's feet: Fresh as thy lakes, may all thy pleasures flow! And breezy like thy groves, thy paffions blow! Wide as thy fancy, be thy spreading praise ! And long and lovely as thy walks, thy days.

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An O DE

ΟΝ ΤΗ Ε

DEATH of Mr. PELHAM.

An honeft man's the nobleft work of God!

ET others hail the rising fun,

Low

I bow to that whofe course is run,
Which fets in endless night;

Whose rays benignant blefs'd this isle,
Made peaceful Nature round us fmile
With calm, but chearful light.

No bounty past provokes my praise,
No future prospects prompt my lays,

From real grief they flow;

I catch th' alarm from Britain's fears,
My forrows fall with Britain's tears,

And join a nation's woe.

POPE.

See

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