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You laugh-'tis well-The tale applied, May make you laugh on t'other side, Renounce the world--the preacher cries; We dom multitude replies. While one az innocent regards A snug and friendly game at cards; And one, whatever you may say, Can see no evil in a play ; Some love a concert or a race ; And others shooting, and the chaco, Revil'd and lov'd, renounc'd and follow'd, Thus, bit by bit, the world is swallow'd; Each thinks his neighbour makes too free, Yet likes a slice as well as he: With sophistry their sauce they sweeten, Till quite fronı tail to snout 'tis eaten.





YE nymphs! is c'er your eyes were red
With tears o'er hapless fav’rites shed

() share Maria's grief!
Iler fav'rite, even in his cage,
(What will not hunger's cruel rage?)

Assassin'd by a thief.


Where Rhenus strays his vines among,
The egg was laid from which he sprung;

And, thouglı by nature mute,
Or only with a whistle blest,
Well taught he all the sounds express'd

Of flagelet or Aute.

The honours of his ebon poll
Were brighter (han the sleekest mole,

His bosom of the hue
With which Aurora decks the skies
When piping winds shall soon arise

To sweep away the dew

Above, below, in all the house,
Dire foe alike of bird and mouse,

No cat had leave to dwell ;
And Bully's caye supported stood
On props of smooth-shaven wood,

Large built and lattic'd well.

Well lattic'd--but the grate,

Not rough with wire of steel or brass,

For Bully's plumage sake,
But smooth with wands from Ouse's side,
With which, when neatly peald and dried,

The swains their baskets make.

Night veil'd the pole ; all seem'd secure ,
When led by instinct, sharp and sure,

Subsistence to provide,
A beast forth sallied on the scout,
Long-back’d, long-tail'd, with whiskier'd sncut,

And badger-colour'd hide

He, ent'ring at the study door
Its ample area 'gan explore :

And something in the wind

Conjectur'd, sniffing round and round,
Better than all the books he found,

Food chiefly for the mind.

Just then, by adverse fate impress'd,
A dream disturb'd poor Bully's rest;

In sleep he seem'd to view
A rat fast clinging to the cago,
And screamir.g at the sad presage,

Awoke and found it true.

For aided both by ear and scent,
Right to his mark the inonster went

Ah muse! forbcar to speak
Minute the horrors that ensu'd ;
His teeth were strong, the cage was wood

He left poor Bully's beak.

O had he made that too his prey;
That beak, whence issu'd niany a lay

Of such mellifluous tone,
Might have repaid him well I wote,
For silencing so sweet a throat,

Fast stuck within his own.

Maria weeps—the muses mourn-
So when by Bacchanalians torn,

On Thracean Hlebrus' side,
The tree-enchanter Orpheus fell,
His liead alone remaind to tell

The cruel death he died.


The Rose had been wash'd, just wash'd in a show'r

Which Mary to Anna convey'd,
The plentiful moisture encuniber'd the flow'r

And weiglid down its beautiful heait.

The cup was all fill'd, and tho leaves were all wot,

And it seem'd to a fanciful view,
To weep for the buds it had left with regret,

On the flourishing bush where it grew

I hastily seiz'd it, unfit as it was

For a nosegay, so dripping and drown'd, And swinging it rudely, loo rudely, alas!

I snapp'd it--it fell to the ground.

And such, I exclaim'd, is the pitiless part

Soine act by the delicatc mind,
Regardless of wringing and breaking a heart

Already to sorrow resign'd.

This elegant rose, had I shaken it loss,

Might have bloom'd with its owner a while ; And the tear that is wip'd with a little address,

May be follow'd perhaps by a smile


REAS'NING at ov'ry step he treads,

Man yet mistakes his way,
While meaner things, whom instinct Icads,

Are rare'y known to stray.

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Ono silent ere I wander'd late,

And heard the voice of love:
The turtlc thus address'd her mate,

And sooth'd the list’ning dove:

Our mutual bond of faith and truth,

No time shall disengage,
Those blessings of our early youth

Shall cheer our latest age :


While innocence without disguise,

And constancy sincere,
Shall fill the circles of thiose eyes,

And mine can read them there.


'Those ills that wait on all below,

Shall ne'er be felt by me, Or gently felt, and only so, As being shar'd with thee.

When lightnings flash among the troen,

Or kites are hov’ring near,
I fear lest thes alone they seize,

And know no other fear.

'Tis then I feel myself a wife,

And press thy wedded side,
Resoly'd a union form'd for life,

Death never shall divide.

But ch! if fickle and unchasto,

(Forgive a transient thought,) Thou could become unkind at last, And scorn thy present lot,

No need of lightnings from on high,

Or kites with cruel beak;
Denied th'cndearments of thine eye,

This widow'd heart would break
Vol. I.


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