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The man too whom my soul first knew,
To virtue and to honour true ;

And friendship’s facred name.

O Newton, could these pensive lays
In worthy numbers scan thy praise,

Much gratitude would say;
But that the Muse, ingenuous maid,
Of flattery seems so much afraid,

She'll scarce her duty pay.
Brecknock, Oct. 16, 1749.

DENNIS to Mr. THOMSON,

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Who had procured him a Benefit Night. REfecting on thy worth, methinks I find

Thy various Seasons in their author's mind. Spring opes her blossoms, various as thy Muse, And, like thy soft compassion, sheds her dews. Summer's hot drought in thy expression glows, And o’er each page a tawny ripeness throws. Autumn's rich fruits th' instructed reader gains, Who castes the meaning purpose of thy strains. Vol. IV.

Y

Winter

Winter- but that no semblance takes from thee:
That hoary season yields a type of me.
Shatter'd by time's bleak storms I withering lay,
Leafless, and whitening in a cold decay!
Yet shall my propless ivy, pale and bent,
Bless the short sunshine which thy pity lent.

et Asetaget గోంగారంగంగానే

S O N G. 1753.

1. HO

O W eafy was Colin, how blithe and how gay!

Ere he met the fair Chloris, how sprightly his lay! So graceful her form, so accomplish'd her mind, Sure pity, he thought, with such charms must be join'd!

II. Whenever she danc'd, or whenever the sung, How just was her motion, how sweet was her tongue ! And when the youth told her his passionate flame, She allow'd him to fancy her heart felt the same.

III. With ardour he press’d her to think him sincere, But alas ! she redoubled each hope and each fear; She would not deny, nor she would not approve, And she neither refus'd him, nor gave him her love.

IV. Now

IV. Now cheer'd by complacence, now froze by disdain, He languish'd for freedom, but languish'd in vain : 'Till Thyrsis, who pity'd fo helpless a Nave, Eas'd his heart of its pain by the counsel he gave.

V.
Forsake her, faid he, and reject her awhile;
If she love you, she foon will return with a smile :
You can judge of her passion by absence alone,
And by absence will conquer her heart or your own.

VI.
This advice he pursu'd; but the remedy prov'd
Too fatal, alas! to the fair one he lov'd ;
Which cur'd his own passion, but left her in vain
To ligh for a heart she could never regain.

I. S. H.

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The BULFINCH in Town,

HA

By a Lady of Quality.
ARK to the blackbird's pleasing note :

Sweet usher of the vocal throng!
Nature directs his warbling throat,
And all that hear admire the fong.

Yon'

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Yon' bulfinch, with unvary'd tone,

Of cadence harsh, and accent shrill; Has brighter plumage to atone

For want of harmony and skill.

Yet, discontent with nature's boon,

Like man, to mimic art he flies; On opera-pinions hoping foon

Unrivallid he shall mount the skics.

And while, to please fome courtly fair,

He one dull tune with labour learns, A well-gilt cage, remote from air,

And faded plumes, is all he earns !

Go, hapless captive ! still repeat

The sounds which nature never taught; Go, listening fair ! and call them sweet, Because

you

know them dearly bought

Unenvy'd both! go hear and sing

Your study'd music o'er and o'er ;
Whilft I attend th' inviting spring,
In fields where birds unfetter'd foar..

SONG.

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S O N G.

Written in Winter 1745.

By the Same.

1.

THE

"HE sun, his gladsome beams withdrawn,

The hills. all white with snow,
Leave me dejected and forlorn!

Who can describe my woe?
But not the sun's warm beams could cheer,

Nor hills, though e'er so green,
Unless

my

Damon should appear,
To beautify the scene.

II.
The frozen brooks, and pathless vales,

Disjoin my love and me!
The pining bird his fate bewails

On yonder leafless tree!
But what to me are birds or brooks

Or any joy that's 'near ?
Heavy the lute, and dull the books,
While Damon is not here!

III. The

Y 3

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