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Written in a time of JffliStion.
O H happy shades! to me unblest,
How ill the scene that offers rest,.
This glassy stream, that spreading pine,
.Might sooth afoul less hurt than mine,
But fixt unalterable care
Foregoes not what she feels within, Shows the fame sadness ev'ry where,
And flights the season and the scene.
For all that pleas'd in wood or lawn,
While peace possess'd these silent bow'rs,
Her animating smile withdrawn,
The faint or moralist should tread
They seek like me the secret shade,
Me fruitful scenes and prospects waste,
These tell me of enjoyments past,
WHAT nature, alas! has denied
To the delicate growth of our isle, Art has in a measure supplied,
And winter is deck'd with a smile. See Mary what beauties I bring
From the shelter of that funny shed, Where the flow'rs have the charms of the spring,
Though abroad they are frozen and dead.
t. Tis a bow'r of Arcadian sweets,
Where Flora is still in her prime, A fortress to which she retreats,
From the cruel assaults of the clime. While earth wears a mantle of snow,
These pinks are as fresh and as gay, As the fairest and sweetest that blow,
On the beautiful bosom of May.
3See how they have safely surviv'd
The frowns of a sky so severe, Such Mary's true love that has liv'd
Through many a turbulent year. The charms of the late blowing rose,
Seem grac'd with a livelier hue, And the winter of sorrow best shows
The truth of a friend, such as you.
Necessary to the Happiness of the Married State.
THE lady thus addrefs'd her spouse— What a mere dungeon is this house, By no means large enough, and was it, Yet this dull room and that dark closet, Those hangings with their worn out graces, Long beards, long noses, and pale faces, .' 7 Are
Are such an antiquated scene,
You are so deaf, the lady cried,