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IMITATION OF SECUNDUS.
KISS THE SIXTH. BY EDMUND L. SWIFT, ESQ.
For a sweet memorandum, two thousand sweet kisses,
I own, you have made up your number of blisses,
When I walk in my meadows, the grass shall I measure;
And hope for my harvest so much, and no more? When expecting my vines, shall I limit their treasure;And call in my bees by the ten and the score?
When rushes the hailstorm, or patters the shower, Who curiously numbers the drops as they fall?
Or the leaves of the tree, or the tints of the flower? And where were the profit to number them all?
And thou, my fair Goddess, oh, fairer than Venus!
Why bound thy delights, and thy beauties divine! Why number so nicely the kisses between us,
Yet tell not these tears and these sorrows of mine?
Oh number my tears and thy kisses together!
All tears, and all kisses—no tear, and no kiss: For both should injustice be number'd, or neither:
Is my anguish unbounded!—oh bound not my bliss! 1804.
ADDRESS TO A BLACK KITTEN.
BY WILLIAM PRESTON, ESQ.
Sable sprout of feline stem,
Thou shalt, like thy master, find
Sportive use the present hour,
Soon to feel Misfortune's pow'r.
Thou, remote from pitying eye,
May'st unwept, unburied lie.
Love, the bane of living things,
Hovers round with cruel wings. #
Tempted by the call of love,
Thou shalt for adventures rove;
When the elegiac note,
Gurgles trembles in the throat.
Tho' with sober air and wise,
Now you sit and wink your eyes.
Mild as maiden of fifteen,
In her mother's presence seen,
Not unheard the call resounds;
Rushing forth, with sudden bounds,
O'er the gutters, o'er the tiles,
Scale the roof, and thrid defiles;
Where, beneath the moon's pale ray,
Tabby belles and lovers play,
Join the merry-making throng,
Swell the treble of the song;
Where they court and where they scold,
O'er our heads high converse hold.
Many a sleepless night and long
Have I heard your Orthian song.
And perhaps a kindred lure,
Shall entice the maid demure,
Quitting the maternal wing,
With some rake to take her fling.
Pass the follies of a night,
Both shall mourn in piteous plight;
Faded ev'ry virgin grace,
Squalid coat, and haggard face;
Maul'd by many a whisker'd jaw,
But suppose propitious Fate