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To wish thee fairer is no need,
More prudent, or more sprightly, Or more ingenious, or more freed
From temper flaws unsightly.
Can I for thee require,
To thy whole heart's desire ?
None here is happy but in part.
Full bliss is bliss divine:
And doubtless one in thine.
That wish on some fair future day,
Which Fate shall brightly gild, ('Tis blameless, be it what it may,)
I wish it all fulfill'd.
ODE TO APOLLO.
On an Inkglass almost dried in the sun
PATRON of all those luckless brains,
That, to the wrong side leaning, Indite much metre with much pains,
And little or no meaning.
And why, since oceans, rivers, streams,
That water all the nations,
Why, stooping from the noon of day,
Too covetous of drink,
A poet's drop of ink ?
It floats a vapour now,
By all the winds that blow.
Combin'd with millions more, * To form an Iris in the skies,
Though black and foul before.
Beyond the happiest lot,
So soon to be forgot.
To place it in thy bow,
With equal grace below.
PAIRING TIME ANTICIPATED.
I SHALL not ask Jean Jaques Rosseau,"
If birds confabulate or no; * It was one of the whimsical speculations of this philoso. pher, that all fables, which ascribe reason and speech to animals, shonld be withheld from children, as being only vehicles of deception. But what child was ever deceived by them, or can be, against the evidence of his senses?
"Tis clear that they were always able
It chanc'd then on a winter's day,
My friends! be cautious how ye treat
A Finch, whose tongue knew no control,
Methinks the gentleman, quoth she,
Dick heard, and tweedling, ogling, bridling, Turning short round, strutting, and sideling,
Attested, glad, his approbation
But though the birds were thus in haste,
Misses ! the tale that I relate
This lesson seems to carry
But proper time, to marry.
TIIE noon was shady, and soft airs
Swept Ouse's silent tide,
I wander'd on his side.
My spaniel, prettiest of his racó,
And high in pedigree, (Two nymphs* adorn'd with ev'ry grace
That spaniel found for me.)
Now starting into sight,
With scarce a slower flight.
His lilies newly blown;
And one I wish'd my own.
To steer it close to land; But still the prize, though nearly caught, Escap'd my eager hand.
* Sir Robert Gunning's daughters