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The inferior priestess, at her altar's sile,

Trembling begins the sacred rites of pride. Unnumbered treasures ope at once, and here

The various offerings of the world appear;

From each she nicely culls with curious toil,

And decks the goddess with the glittering spoil.

This casket India's glowing gems unlocks,

And all Arabia breathes from yonder box.

The tortoise here and elephant unite, Transformed to combs, the speckled, and the white.

Here files of pins extend their shining

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On her white breast a sparkling cross she wore,

Which Jews might kiss, and infidels a lore.

Her lively looks a sprightly mind disclose,

Quick as her eyes and as unfixed as those:

Favors to none, to all she smiles extends;

Oft she rejects, but never once offends.

Bright as the sun, her eyes the gazers strike,

And like the sun, they shine on all alike.

Yet graceful ease, and sweetness void of pride,

Might hide her faults if belles had faults to hide:

If to her share some female errors fall,

Look on her face and you'll forget them all.

This nymph, to the destruction of mankind, Nourished two locks which graceful hung behind

In equal curls, and well conspired to deck

With shining ringlets the smooth ivory neck.

Love in these labyrinths his slaves detains

And mighty hearts are held in slender chains.

With hairy springes we the birds betray,

Slight lines of hair surprise the finny

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THE BELLE OF THE BALL.

YEARS, years ago, ere yet my dreams Had been of being wise or witty, Ere I had done with writing themes, Or yawned o'er this infernal Chit

ty, Years, years ago, while all my joys Were in my fowling-piece and filly; In short, while I was yet a boy,

I fell in love with Laura Lilly.

I saw her at the country ball; There, when the sounds of flute and fiddle

Gave signal sweet in that old hall

Of hands across and down the middle,

Hers was the subtlest spell by far Of all that sets young hearts romancing:

She was our queen, our rose, our star;

And then she danced, - O Heaven! her dancing.

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knew that there was nothing in it;

I was the first, the only one,

Her heart had thought of for a minute.

I knew it, for she told me so,

In phrase which was divinely moulded;

As Baron Rothschild for the She wrote a charming hand, —and Muses.

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oh, How sweetly all her notes were folded!

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Though all the parish was at strife,

He kept his counsel and his carriage,

And laughed, and loved a quiet life, And shrunk from Chancery-suits and marriage.

Sound were his claret and his head, Warm were his double ale and feelings;

His partners at the whist-club said

That he was faultless in his dealings.

He went to church but once a week, Yet Dr. Poundtext always found him

An upright man, who studied Greek, And liked to see his friends around him.

But was no flatterer nor fretter; He rapped his box when things were bad.

And said: "I cannot make them

better."

And much he loathed the patriot's snort,

And much he scorned the placeman's snuffle,

And cut the fiercest quarrels short With, Patience, gentlemen, and

shuffle!"

For full

ten years his pointer, Speed,

Had couched beneath his master's

table,

For twice ten years his old white steed

Had fattened in his master's stable. Old Quince averred upon his troth They were the ugliest beasts in

Devon;

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FOR MY OWN MONUMENT.

As doctors give physic by way of prevention,

Matt, alive and in health, of his tombstone took care;

Yet credit but lightly what more may be said,

For we flatter ourselves, and teach marble to lie.

For delays are unsafe, and his pious Yet counting so far as to fifty his

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intention May haply be never fulfilled by his

Then take Matt's word for it, the sculptor is paid,

That the figure is fine, pray believe your own eye;

years,

His virtues and vices were as other men's are;

High hopes he conceived, and he smothered great fears,

In a life party-colored, half pleasure, half care.

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