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ON TAE RESTORATION OF THE
To the Throne of France ; an event which I hope, by the interposition of Divine Providence, will
e're long take place.
WHEN Vice prevails, and impious men bear sway,
VERSÊS to Mrs. T***T,
Nearly allied to Venus, from her love-sick Relation Cupid.
THE winged messenger of love,
From my enchanting Bower in the Wilderness at $******d, my Heart overflowing with Love, like tke Sea at a Spring Tide.
Kind Guardian Angels hover o'er her head,
The God of Love writes in haste, as he has some millions of visits to pay before morning :
For as soon as dawos forth the break of day,
AS your dear little Cupid with rapt'rous delight, Is now winging his course on an amorous flight, He has stop'd at a place call’d by him sweet S******d, And these lines to his fav’rite has gallanıly penn’d; To my Widow of thirty, of a hundred I mean, For where's one in a hundred like her to be seen? What widow in Britain with T***t can compare ? And most women there are deem'd lovely and fair. Whence some have imagin’d they plainly can see, Old England the isle of Calypso must be, As all our historians on this point agree; That he who's in love, must be tied down as fast As Ulysses so fam’d, when tied to a mast, If from Britain's fair nymphs he wants to set sail, Else beauty and love o'er his heart will prevail. To describe my dear T***t surpasses all pow'r, No, I've hit off her charms, she's a beautiful flow'r, Where balm, laylock, and lilly their fragrance combine, With pitik, jassamine, rose, and the sweet eglantine, Whence all who behold her declare her divine. Now tell me what Belle for a moment will dare, With this sweetest of flow'rs herself to compare. Openhearted and gay, yet free from all vice, Tho' some think my Widow by no means too nice,
I'll match her in conduct with any starch dame,
Thy beauty shall seem as a rich swelling vine,
Then love, honor, esteem, with affection's fair train
The Wilderness, one o'clock in the morning, Sep. 24,
1804, to mortal reckoning; but no point of time
Mr. LOIVNDES being at a Rout, where a IVidow was pointed out to him, apparently so young, she might have been taken for a girl of fifteen, wrote the following extempore Verses, in consequence of a Lady's expressing great surprise at Mrs. IVood, the name of the young Widow, looking so like a girl. It so happened that a Mr. Ash was standing near the Lady who erpressed such greut surprise, therefore Mr. L was tempted to pun upon the young Widow's name, particularly as he had an opportunity of making a jeu de mots, by the introduction of Mr. Ash.
Mr. L,-YOU shew surprise, so did I too,
At that young Widow, now in view;
Mrs. H.-That Widow, Wood, it cannot be,
For I have seen her sipping tea,