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When warm with youth we tread the flow'ry way.
All nature charms, and every scene looks gay;
Each object gratifies each sense in turn,

Whilft now for rattles, now for nymphs we burn;
Enflav'd by friendship's or by love's soft smile,
We ne'er fufpect, because we mean no guile:
'Till, flush'd with hope from views of past fuccefs,
We lay on fome main trifle all our stress;
When lo! the mistress or the friend betrays,
And the whole fancied cheat of life displays :
Stun'd with an ill that from ourselves arofe;
For instinct rul'd, when reason fhould have chose;
We fly for comfort to fome lonely scene,
Victims henceforth of dirt, and drink, and spleen.
But let no obftacles that cross our views,
Pervert our talents from their deftin'd use;
For, as upon life's hill we upwards press,
Our views will be obstructed lefs and lefs.
Be all false delicacy far away,

Left it from nature lead us quite aftray;
And for th' imagin'd vice of human race,
Destroy our virtue, or our parts debase;
Since God with reafon joins to make us own,
That 'tis not good for man to be alone.

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On the Death of Col. CHARLES Ross, in the Action at Fontenoy. Written May 1745.

W

By Mr. W. COLLINS.

I.

HILE, loft to all his former mirth,'
BRITANNIA'S genius bends to earth,

And mourns the fatal day;

While, ftain'd with blood, he strives to tear
Unfeemly from his fea-green hair

The wreaths of cheerful May;
II.

The thoughts which musing pity pays,
And fond remembrance loves to raise,

Your faithful hours attend;

Still fancy, to herself unkind,

Awakes to grief the soften'd mind,

And points the bleeding friend.

III. By

III.

By rapid Scheld's defcending wave
His country's vows shall bless the grave,
Where-e'er the youth is laid:

That facred spot the village hind

With

every fweetest turf fhall bind,

And peace protect the shade.

IV.

O'er him, whofe doom thy virtues grieve,

Aerial forms fhall fit at eve

And bend the penfive head!

And, fall'n to fave his injur'd land,

Imperial Honour's aweful hand

Shall point his lonely bed!

V.

The warlike dead of every age,

Who fill the fair recording page,

Shall leave their fainted rest:

And, half-reclining on his fpear,

Each wond'ring Chief by turns appear,

To hail the blooming guest.

VI. Old

VI.

Old EDWARD's fons, unknown to yield,
Shall crowd from CRESSY's laurell'd field,
And gaze with fix'd delight;

Again for Britain's wrongs they feel,

Again they fnatch the gleamy steel,

And wifh th' avenging fight.

VII.

If, weak to footh so soft an heart,

These pictur'd glories nought impart

To dry thy constant tear;

If yet in forrow's distant eye,

Expos'd and pale thou seest him lie,

Wild war infulting near.

VIII.

Where-e'er from time thou court'st relief,

The Muse shall still with social grief
Her gentle promise keep :

Ev'n humble HARTING'S cottag'd vale

Shall learn the fad repeated tale,

And bid her shepherds weep.

VOL. I.

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OW fleep the brave, who fink to rest.

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By all their country's wishes bleft!

When Spring with dewy fingers cold,
Returns to deck their hallow'd mould,
She there fhall dress a sweeter fod,
Than FANCY's feet have ever trod.

By fairy hands their knell is rung,

By forms unfeen their dirge is fung;
There HONOUR comes, a PILGRIM grey,
To blefs the turf that wraps their clay,
And FREEDOM. fhall awhile repair,
To dwell a weeping HERMIT there!

ODE

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