Renounce the world-the preacher cries. We do a multitude replies. While one as innocent regards A snug and friendly game at cards; And one, whatever you may say, Some love a concert, or a race; Reviled and loved, renounced and follow'd, With sophistry their sauce they sweeten, COWPER. THE FIRM RESOLUTION. YES, you may sigh, and pout, and fret! Not the dark lustre of those eyes, 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. Ah, idle boast!-that witching smile, That witching smile again has caught me! R. A. DAVENPORT. THE SPLEEN. I AM not of their mind who say Thus we, a spleenful race, are free While those who lived with good Queen Bess (As they that know the truth confess) Though spleen and vapours there were none, Thus far in preface.-Now I'll tell 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, 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 re prove; [mission But Pleasure and Truth will ne'er ask for adIf the doors of the heart be not opened by Love! Too late he will own, at his folly confounded, Must starve at a banquet unseasoned by Love! The heart will soon find all his influence falter, alter, TO LADY ANNE HAMILTON. Too late I staid, forgive the crime, How noiseless falls the foot of Time What eye with clear account remarks When all its sands are diamond sparks, Ah! who to sober measurement HON. W. R. SPENCER. VOL. V. 3 B |