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BY A PERSON OF QUALITY.

Written in the Year 1733.

I.

FLUTT'RING spread thy purple pinions,
Gentle Cupid! o'er my heart;
I a slave in thy dominions :
Nature must give way to Art.

II.

Mild Arcadians, ever blooming,
Nightly nodding o'er your flocks,
See my weary days consuming
All beneath yon' flow'ry rocks.

III.

Thus the Cyprian goddess weeping,
Mourn'd Adonis, darling youth!
Him the boar, in silence creeping,
Gor'd with unrelenting tooth.

IV.

Cynthia! tune harmonious numbers;
Fair Discretion! string the lyre;

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Sooth my ever-waking slumbers:
Bright Apollo! lend thy choir.

V.

Gloomy Pluto! king of terrors,
Arm'd in adamantine chains,
Lead me to the crystal mirrors,
Wat'ring soft Elysian plains.

VI.

Mournful Cypress, verdant Willow,
Gilding my Aurelia's brows,
Morpheus hov'ring o'er my pillow,
Hear me pay my dying vows.

VII.

Melancholy smooth Meander

Swifty purling in a round,

On thy margin lovers wander,
With thy flow'ry chaplets crown'd.

VIII.

Thus when Philomela drooping,
Softly seeks her silent mate,
See the bird of Juno stooping;
Melody resigns to Fate.

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I KNOW the thing that's most uncommon; (Envy be silent and attend!)

I know a reasonable Woman,

Handsome and witty, yet a friend.

Not warp'd by passion, aw'd by rumour, thro' pride, nor gay thro' folly, An equal mixture of good humour,

Not grave

And sensible soft melancholy.

'Has she not faults then, (Envy says,) Sir?”
Yes, she has one, I must aver;

When all the world conspires to praise her,
The Woman's deaf, and does not hear.

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VOL. V.

ON HIS GROTTO AT TWICKENHAM, COMPOSED

OF MARBLES, SPARS, GEMS, ORES,

AND MINERALS.

THOU who shalt stop where Thames' translucent

wave

Shines a broad mirror through the shady cave;
Where ling'ring drops from minʼral roofs distil,
And pointed crystals break the sparkling rill;
Unpolish'd gems no ray on pride bestow,
And latent metals innocently glow;

Approach. Great Nature studiously behold!
And eye the mine without a wish for gold.
Approach; but awful! lo! th' Ægerian Grot,
Where nobly pensive, St. John sat and thought,
Where British sighs from dying Wyndham stole,
And the bright flame was shot thro' Marchmont's
soul.

Let such, such only, tread this sacred floor,

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Who dare to love their country, and be poor. 14

ON RECEIVING FROM THE RIGHT HON. THE

LADY FRANCES SHIRLEY A STAND

ISH AND TWO PENS.

YES, I beheld th' Athenian Queen
Descend in all her sober charms!
'And take,' she said, and smil❜d serene,
"Take at this hand celestial arms :

'Secure the radient weapons wield;

'This golden lance shall guard desert, 'And if a vice dares keep the field,

'This steel shall stab it to the heart.'

Aw'd, on my bended knees I fell,
Receiv'd the weapons of the sky,

And dipp'd them in the sable well,
The fount of fame or infamy.

'What well? what weapon?' Flavia cries,
A standish, steel, and golden pen!
"It came from Bertrand's, not the skies;
'I gave it you to write agen.

But friend! take heed whom you attack; 'You'll bring a House (I mean of Peers)

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