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Renounce the world--the preacher cries.
We doma multitude replies.
While one as innocent regards
A snug and friendly game at cards;
And one, whatever you may say,
Can see no evil in a play;
Some love a concert, or a race;
And others shooting and the chase.
Reviled and loved, renounced and follow'd,
Thus, bit by bit, the world is swallow'd:
Each thinks his neighbour makes too free,
Yet likes a slice as well as he:
With sophistry their sauce they sweeten,
Till quite from tail to snout 'tis eaten.

COWPER.

THE FIRM RESOLUTION.

Yes, you may sigh, and pout, and fret!

Vain are your efforts to secure me; For since, at last, I've broke the net,

There's nothing shall again allure me.

Not the dark lustre of those eyes,

At once so brilliant and so tender, Though by each glance a lover dies,

Shall make my heart its peace surrender.

Nor care I for those coral lips,

Nor cheeks suffused with blushes roseal, Though he who tastes them surely sips

Of more, far more, than sweets ambrosial,

So free am I, that e'en thy voice,

Whose tones might charm the angry ocean,
And bid the soul of woe rejoice,

Wakes in my breast no wild emotion.
I'll not be snared by any wile

That once before in bondage brought me.
Ab, idle boast!-that witching smile,
That witching smile again has caught me!

R. A. DAVENPORT.

THE SPLEEN.

1

I AM not of their mind who say
The world degenerates every day;
Nor like to hear a churl exclaim,
In rapture at Queen Bess's name,
And

cry, 'what happy times were those
When ladies with the sun uprose,
And for their breakfast did not fear
To eat roast beef and drink strong beer!
Then buxom health and sprightly grace
Enlivened every blooming face,
Blooming with roses all its own;
And rouge, tea, vapours, were unknown.'

Nature, still changing, still the same,
Hath so contrived this worldly frame,
That every age shall duly share
The good or ill that flows from her.
Thus we, a spleenful race, are free
From magic and from sorcery;
While those who lived with good Queen Bess
(As they that know the truth confess)

Though spleen and vapours there were none,
Had imps and witches many a one;
And he who, 'cause he has not seen,
Will not believe, hath ne'er, I ween,
With due attention mused upon
Thy page, O British Solomon!

Thus far in preface.—Now I'll tell
How Spleen arose, when Witchcraft fell.
By vengeful laws the wizard brood
Long harass'd, and at length subdued,
Their black familiars all repair
Before the throne of Lucifer,
With sad petitions, setting forth
Their many grievances on earth,
What torments they were doom'd to bear
While tending on their witches there :
Some drown'd, to prove their innocence,
Or, scaping, hang'd on that pretence;
Some burnt within their steeple hats,
Some nine times murder'd in their cats :
Brief, they petition'd to enjoy
Some less adventurous employ,
Since witchcraft now was thought so common
They were not safe in an old woman.

Their suit was granted—up they came New liveried in sulphur flame, With licence through the realm to range; But, with their power, their name they change. Magic no longer now is seen, And what was Witchcraft once, is Spleen: Yet still they most delight to vex, As first they did, the female sex ; And still, like an old witch's charm, They tease, but have no power to harm.

Though doctors otherwise have told,
The tale is true that I unfold :
And with my system suits the name,
For Spleen and Vapours are the same;
And all the country people know
That these, ascending from below,
Are devils of peculiar hue,
And from their colour call them blue.

REV. W. CROWE.

LOVE OUT OF PLACE. I'm a boy of all work, a complete little servant,

Though now, out of place, like a beggar I rove; Though in waiting so handy, in duty so fervent, The Heart (could you think it) has turned away

Love! He pretends to require, growing older and older,

A nurse more expert his chill fits to remove, But sure every heart will grow colder and colder

Whose fires are not lighted and fuel'd by Love! He fancies that Friendship, my puritan brother,

In journeys and visits more useful will prove; But the heart will soon find, when it calls on

another, That no heart is at home to a heart without love!

He thinks his new porter, grim-featured Suspicion, Will Falsehood and Pain from his mansion reprove;

[mission But Pleasure and. Truth will ne'er ask for ad.

If the doors of the heart be not opened by Love!

Too late he will own, at his folly confounded,

My skill at a feast was all praises above;
For the heart, though with sweets in profusion

surrounded,
Must starve at a banquet unseasoned by Love!

WE.

The heart will soon find all his influence falter,

By me, by me only that influence throve; With the change of his household his nature will alter,

[Love! That heart is no heart which can live without

HON. W.R. SPENCER.

Itant,

I rore;

rrent.

TO LADY ANNE HAMILTON.

damar

older. more, colder

Too late I staid, forgive the crime,

Unheeded flew the hours;
How noiseless falls the foot of Time

That only treads on flowers !

Lore!

ther, rove; Is on

What eye with clear account remarks

The ebbing of his glass,
When all its sands are diamond sparks,

That dazzle as they pass ?

Tore!

cion, n re-sjon

ad. uve!

Ah! who to sober measurement

Time's happy swiftness brings,
When birds of Paradise have lent
Their plumage for his wings?

HON. W. R. SPENCER.

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