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That long behind he trails his pompous robe, And, of all monarchs, only grasps the globe?
The Baron now,
his Diamonds pours apace ; Th' embroider'd King who shews but half his face,
[bin'd, And his refulgent Queen, with pow’rs comOf broken troops an easy conquest find. Clubs, Diamonds, Hearts, in wild disorder
seen, With throngs promiscuous strow the level
green, Thus, when dispers’d a routed army runs, Of Asia's troops, and Afric's fable sons, With like confusion different nations fly, Of various habit, and of various dye, The pierc'd battalions disunited fall, In heaps on heaps ; one. fate o’erwhelms
The Knave of Diamonds tries his wily arts, And wins (oh shameful chance!) the Queen
At this, the blood the virgin's cheek for
fook, A livid paleness spreads o'er all her look ; She sees, and trembles at th' approaching ill, Just in the jaws of ruin, and Codille. And now, (as oft in some distemper'd state) On one nice trick depends the gen’ral fate, An Ace of Hearts steps forth; the King un
seen Lurk'd in her hand, and mourn’d his cap
tive Queen : He springs to vengeance with an eager pace, And falls like thunder on the prostrate Ace. The Nymph exulting fills with thouts the
sky; The walls, the woods, and long canals re
Day. A Pastoral in Three Parts.
N the barn the tenant cock,
Close to Partlet perch'd on high,
Jocound that the morning's nigh.
Swiftly from the mountain's brow,
Shadows, nurs'd by night, retire;
Paints with gold the village fpire.
Philomel forsakes the thorn,
Plaintive where she prates at night ;
Soars beyond the shepherd's sight.
From the low roof'd cottage ridge,
See the chatt'ring swallow spring;
Gently greets the morning gale ; Kidlings, now, begin to crop
Daisies, on the dewy dale.
From the balmy sweets, uncloy'd,
(Restless till her task be done). Now the busy bee's employ’d,
Sipping dew before the fun.
Trickling through the crevic'd rock,
Where the limpid stream diftils, Sweet refreshment waits the flock,
When 'tis fun-drove from the hills.
Colin's for the promis'd corn
(Ere the harvest hopes are ripe) Anxious ;-whilft the huntfinan's horn,
Boldly sounding, drowns his pipe.
Sweet- sweet, the warbling throng,
On the white embloffom'd spray! Nature's universel song
Echo's to the rising day.
FERVID on the glittring flood,
Now the noon-tide radiance glows ; Drooping o'er its infant bud,
Not a dew-drop's left the rose.
By the brook the shepherd dines,
Froin the fierce meridian heat Shelter'd by the branching pines,
Pendant o'er his grassy seat.
Now the flock forsakes the glade,
Where uncheck'd the sun-beams fall, Sure to find a pleasing shade
By the ivy'd abbey wall.
Echo, in her airy round,
O'er the river, rock, and hill, Cannot catch a single-sound,
Save the clack of yonder mill.
Cattle court the zephyrs bland,
Where the streamlet wanders cool ; Or with languid silence stand
Midway in the marshy pool.