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Ah, beauteous maid! let this example move
Your mind, averse from all the joys of love:
Deign to be lov’d, and every heart subdue!
What nymph could e'er attract such crowds as you?
Not she whose beauty urg'd the Centaur's arms,
Ulysses' queen, nor Helen's fatal charms.
Ev'n now, when silent scorn is all they gain,
A thousand court you, though they court in vain,
A thousand sylvans, demigods, and gods,
That haunt our mountains, and our Alban woods.
But if you'll prosper, mark what I advise,
Whom age and long experience render wise,
And one whose tender care is far above
All that these lovers ever felt of love
(Far more than ere can by yourself be guess'd),
Fix on Vertumnus, and reject the rest.
For his firm faith I dare engage my own,
Scarce to himself, himself is better known.
To distant lands Vertumnus never roves;
Like you, contented with his native groves;
Nor at first sight, like most, admires the fair;
For you he lives; and you alone shall share
His last affection, as his early care.
Besides, he's lovely far above the rest,
With youth immortal, and with beauty blest.
Add, that he varies every shape with ease,
And tries all forms that may Pomona please.
But what should most excite a mutual flame,
Your rural cares and pleasures are the same.
To him your orchard's early fruit are due
(A pleasing offering when 'tis made by you),
He values these; but yet, alas! complains,
That still the best and dearest gift remains,
Not the fair fruit that on yon branches glows
With that ripe red th' autumnal sun bestows;
Nor tasteful herbs that in these gardens rise,
Which the kind soil with milky sap supplies;
You, only you, can move the god's desire:
Oh, crown so constant and so pure a fire!

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Let soft compassion touch your gentle mind;
Think, 'tis Vertumnus begs you to be kind:
So may no frost, when early buds appear,
Destroy the promise of the youthful year;
Nor winds, when first your florid orchard blows,
Shake the light blossoms from their blasted boughs!

This when the various god has urg'd in vain,
He straight assum'd his native form again;
Such, and so bright an aspect now he bears,
As when through clouds th' emerging sun appears,
And, thence exerting his refulgent ray,
Dispels the darkness, and reveals the day.
Force he prepar'd, but check'd the rash design;
For when, appearing in a form divine,
The nymph surveys him, and beholds the grace
Of charning features, and a youthful face;
In her soft breast consenting passions move,
And the warm maid confess'd a mutual love.

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IMITATIONS

OF ENGLISH POETS.

Done by the Author in his Youth.

CHAUCER

WOMEN

ben full of ragerie,
Yet swinken nat sans secresie.
Thilke moral shall ye understond,
From schoole-boy's tale of fayre Irelond:
Which to the fennes hath him betake,
To filoh the gray ducke fro the lake.
Right then, there passen by the way
His aunt, and eke her daughters tway.
Ducke in his trowsers hath he hent,
Not to be spied of ladies gent.
• But ho! our nephew,' cryeth one,

Ho !' quoth another, 'cozen John;'
And stoppen, and lough, and callen out,
This silly clerke full low doth lout:
They asken that, and talken this,
.Lo! here is co2, and here is miss.'
But, as he glozeth with speeches soote,
The ducke sore tickleth his erse roote:
Fore-piece and buttons all to-brest,
Forth thrust a white neck, and red crest.
* Te-he,' cry'd ladies; clerke nought spake:
Miss star'd; and gray duke cryeth Quaake.'
• O moder, moder,' quoth the daughter.
. Be thilke same thing maids longen a'ter?
Bette is to pine ou coals and chalke,
Then trust on mon, whose yerde can talke.'

SPENSER

THE ALLEY.
IN every town where Thamis rolls his tyde,

A narrow pass there is, with houses low;
Where, ever and anon, the stream is ey'd,
And many a boat soft sliding to and fro.
There oft are heard the notes of infant woe,
The short thick sob, loud scream, and shriller

squall:
How can ye, mothers, rex your children so ?
Some play, some eat, some cack against the wall.
And as they crouchen low, for bread and butter

call.
And on the broken pavement, here and there,
Doth many a stinking sprat and herring lie;
A brandy and tobacco shop is near,
And hens, and dogs, and hogs are feeding by;
And here a sailor's jacket hangs to dry.
At every door.are sun-burnt matrons seen,
Mending old nets to catch the scaly fry,
Now singing shrill, and scolding eft between;
Scolds answer foul-mouth'd scolds; bad neighbour

hood I ween.
The snappish cur (the passenger's annoy)
Close at my heel with yelping treble fies;
The whimp’ring girl, and hoarser screaming boy,
Join to the yelping treble, shrilling cries;
The scolding quean to louder notes doth rise,
And her full pipes those shrilling cries confound;
To her full pipes the grunting hog replies;
The grunting hogs alarm the neighbours round,
And curs, girls, boys, and scolds, in the deep base

are drown'd.
Hard by a sty, beneath a roof of thatch,
Dwelt Obloquy, who in her early days
Baskets of fish at Billingsgate did watch,

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Cod, whiting, oyster, mackrel, sprat, or plaice: There learn'd she speech from tongues that never

cease. Slander beside her, like a magpie, chatters, With Envy (spitting cat), dread foe to peace; Like a curs'd cur, Malice before her clatters, And, vexing every wight, tears clothes and all to

tatters. Her dugs were mark'd by every collier's hand, Her mouth was black as bull-dog's at the stall: She scratched, bit, and spar'd ne lace ne band, And bitch and rogue her answer was to all; Nay, e'en the parts of shame by name would call; Yea, when she passed by or lane or nook, Would greet the man who turn'd him to the wall, And by his hand obscene the porter took, Nor ever did askance like modest virgin look. Such place hath Deptford, navy-building town, Woolwich and Wapping, smelling strong of pitch: Such Lambeth, envy of each band and gown; And Twickenham such, which fairer scenes enrich, Grots, statues, urns, and Jo--n's dog and bitch, Ne village is without, on either side, All up the silver Thames, or all adown; Ne Richmond's self, from whose tall front are ey'd Vales, spires, meandering streams, and Windsor's

towery pride.

WALLER.

OF A LADY SINGING TO HER LUTE.

FAIR charmer, cease, nor make your voice's prize

A heart resign'd the conquest of your eyes: Well might, alas ! that threaten'd vessel fail, Which winds and lightning both at once assait. We were too blest with these enchanting lays, Which must be heavenly when an angel plays:

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