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Beneath the plume that flames with glancing rays,
Be Care's deep engines on the foul imprefs'd;
Beneath the helmet's keen refulgent blaze,

Let Grief fit pining in the canker'd breast.

Let Love's gay fons, a fmiling train, appear,

With Beauty pierc'd-yet heedlefs of the dart: While clofely couch'd, pale fick'ning Envy near, Whets her fell fting, and points it at the heart.

Perch'd like a raven on fome blafted yew,

Let Guilt revolve the thought-diftracting fin;
Scar'd-while her eyes furvey th' etherial blue,
Left heav'n's ftrong lightning burft the dark within.

Then paint-impending o'er the madd'ning deep
That rock, where heart-ftruck Sappho, vainly brave,
Stood firm of foul-then from the dizzy steep
Impetuous fprung, and dafh'd the boiling wave.

Here, rapt in ftudious thought, let Fancy rove,
Still prompt to mark Sufpicion's secret snare;
To fee where Anguish nips the bloom of Love,
Or trace proud Grandeur to the domes of Care.

Should e'er Ambition's tow'ring hopes inflame,
Let judging Reafon draw the veil afide;
Or fir'd with envy at fome mighty name,
Read o'er the monument that tells-He dy'd!

What are the enfigns of imperial sway ?

What all that Fortune's lib'ral hand has brought?
Teach they the voice to pour a sweeter lay?
Or rouze the foul to more exalted thought?

When

When bleeds the heart as Genius blooms unknown;
When melts the eye o'er Virtue's mournful bier :
Not wealth, but Pity, fwells the bursting groan;
Not pow'r, but whispering Nature, prompts the tear.

Say, gentle mourner, in yon mouldy vault,
Where the worm fattens on fome fcepter'd brow;
Beneath that roof with sculptur'd marble fraught
Why fleeps unmov'd the breathlefs duft below

Sleeps it more sweetly than the simple swain,
Beneath some moffy turf that refts his head;
Where the lone widow tells the night her pain,
And eve with dewy tears embalms the dead

The lily, fcreen'd from ev'ry ruder gale,

Courts not the cultur'd spot where roses spring;
But blows neglected in the peaceful vale,
And scents the zephyrs balmy breathing wing.

The bufts of grandeur, and the pomp of pow'r,
Can these bid Sorrow's gufhing tears fubfide ?
Can these avail, in that tremendous hour,
When Death's cold hand congeals the purple tide?

Ah, no!-the mighty names are heard no more:
Pride's thought fublime, and Beauty's kindling bloom,
Serve but to sport one flying moment o'er,

And fwell with pompous verfe the fcutcheon'd tomb.

For me-may Paffion ne'er my foul invade,

Nor be the whims of tow'ring Frenzy giv'n;
Let Wealth ne'er court me from the peaceful fhade,
Where Contemplation wings the foul to heav'n!

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O guard me fafe from Joy's enticing fnare,
With each extreme that Pleasure tries to hide;
The poifon'd breath of flow-confuming Care,
The noife of Folly, and the dreams of Pride!

But oft, when midnight's fadly folemn knell
Sounds long and distant from the sky-topp'd tower;
Calm let me fit in Profper's lonely cell*,

Or walk with Milton thro' the dark obfcure.

Thus, when the tranfient dream of life is fled,
May
fome fad friend recal the former years;
Then, ftretch'd in filence o'er my dufty bed,

Pour the warm gush of fympathetick tears.

PHILLIS;

OR, THE PROGRESS OF LOVE.

D

BY DEAN SWIFT.

ESPONDING Phillis was endu'd
With ev'ry talent of a prude:

She trembled when a man drew near;
Salute her, and she turn'd her ear.
If o'er against her you were plac'd,
She durft not look above your waist:
She'd rather take you to her bed,
Than let you fee her dress her head.
In church you hear her, thro' the crowd,
Repeat the Abfolution loud:

In church, fecure behind her fan,

She durft behold that monster, man.

See Shakespeare's Tempeft.

There

There practis'd how to place her head,
And bite her lips to make them red;
Or on the mat devoutly kneeling,
Would lift her eyes up to the cieling,
And heave her bofom unaware,
For neighb'ring beaus to fee it bare.
At length, a lucky lover came,
And found admittance to the dame.
Suppofe all parties now agreed,
The writings drawn, the lawyer fee'd,
The vicar and the ring befpoke;
Guefs, how could fuch a match be broke?
See then, what mortals place their bliss in !
Next morn betimes, the bride was miffing.
The mother fcream'd, the father chid;

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Where can this idle wench be hid?

No news of Phil!'-The bridegroom came,
And thought his bride had sculk'd for fhame;
Because her father us❜d to fay,

The girl had fuch a bashful way.
Now John the butler must be fent
To learn the road that Phillis went :
The groom was wish'd to faddle Crop,
For John muft neither light nor ftop;
But find her, wherefoe'er fhe fled,
And bring her back, alive or dead.

See here again, the devil to do!
For truly John was miffling too;
The horse and pillion both were gone-
Phillis, it feems, was fled with John!
Old Madam, who went up to find
What papers Phil had left behind,
A letter on the toilette fees,

"To my much honour'd father-these,”?
('Tis always done, romances tell us,

When daughters run away with fellows)

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Fill'd with the choiceft common-places,
By others us'd in the like cases:
"That long ago a fortune-teller
Exactly faid what now befel her,
And in a glass had made her fee
A ferving-man of low degree.
It was her fate, must be forgiv'n,
For marriages were made in heav'n.
His pardon begg'd; but, to be plain,
She'd do't, if 'twere to do again :
Thank'd God 'twas neither fhame nor fin,
For John was come of honeft kin.
Love never thinks of rich and poor;

She'd beg with John from door to door.
Forgive her, if it be a crime;
She'll never do't another time:
She ne'er before, in all her life,
Once difobey'd him, maid nor wife."
One argument she fumm'd up all in;
"The thing was done, and paft recalling;
And therefore hop'd she should recover
His favour, when his paffion's over:
She valu'd not what others thought her,
And was his moft obedient daughter."

Fair maidens all, attend the Mufe,
Who now the wand'ring pair purfues!
Away they rode in homely fort,
Their journey long, their money short.
The loving couple well bemir'd,
The horse and both the riders tir'd;
Their victuals bad, their lodging work;

Phil cry'd, and John began to curse :
Phil wifh'd that she had strain❜d a limb,
When first fhe ventur'd out with him
John wifh'd that he had broke a leg,
When first for her he quitted Peg.

But

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