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And destined all the treasure thero
A gift to his expecting fair,
Climb'd like a squirrel to his dray,
And bore the worthless prize away.


'Tis Providence alone secures
In every change both mine and yours:
Safety consists not in escape
From dangers of a frightful shape;
An earthquake may be bid to spare
The man that's strangled by a hair.
Fate steals along with silent tread,
Found oftenest in what least we dread,
Frowns in the storm with angry brow,
But in the sunshine strikes the blow.



PATRON of all those luckless brains,

That, to the wrong side leaning, Indite much metre with much pains,

And little or no meaning.

Ab why, since oceans, rivers, streams

That water all the nations,
Pay tribute to thy glorious beams,

In constant exhalations;

Why, stooping from the noon of day,

Too covetous of drink, Apollo, hast thou stolen away

A poet's drop of ink?

Upborne into the viewless air,

It floats a vapour now, Impelld through regions dense and rare

By all the winds that blow.

Ordaind perhaps ere summer flies,

Combin'd with millions more, To form an iris in the skies,

Though black and foul before.

Illustrious drop ! and happy then

Beyond the happiest lot,
Of all that ever pass'd my pen,

So soon to be forgot!

Phæbus, if such be thy design,

To place it in thy bow,
Give wit, that what is left may shine

With equal grace below.

A COMPARISON. The lapse of time and rivers is the same, Both speed their journey with a restless stream ; The silent pace, with which they steal away, No wealth can bribe, no prayers persuade to stay: Alike irrevocable both when past, And a wide ocean swallows both at last. Though each resemble each in every party A difference strikes at length the musing heart; Streams never flow in vain ; where streams abound, How laughs the land with various plenty crown'd! But time, that should enrich the nobler mind, Neglected leaves a dreary waste behind.



SWEET stream, that winds through yonder
Apt emblem of a virtuous maid-

[glade, Silent and chaste she steals along, Far from the world's gay busy throng ; With gentle yet prevailing force, Intent upon

her destined course ; Graceful and useful all she does, Blessing and blest where'er she goes, Pure bosom'd as that watery glass, And heaven reflected in her face.

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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.

What favour then not yet possess'd

Can I for thee require,
In wedded love already blest,

To thy whole heart's desire ?

None here is happy but in part:

Full bliss is bliss divine;
There dwells some wish in every hearty

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.




I SHALL not ask Jean Jaques Rousseau
If birds confabulate or no;
'Tis clear, that they were always able
To hold discourse, at least in fable ;
And e'en the child who knows no better
Than to interpret, by the letter,
A story of a cock and bull,
Must have a most uncommon skull.

It chanced then on a winter's day,
But warm, and bright, and calm as May,
The birds, conceiving a design
To forestall sweet St. Valentine,
In many an orchard, copse, and

Assembled on affairs of love,
And with much twitter and much chatter
Began to agitate the matter.
At length a Bullfinch, who could boast
More years and wisdom than the most,

i It was one of the whimsical speculations of this phila sopher, that all fables, which ascribe reason and speech to animals, should be withheld from children, as being only vehicles of deception. But what child was ever deceivei by them, or can be, against the evidence of his senses?

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