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The pine-apples, in triple row,
Were basking hot, and all in blow;
A bee of most discerning taste
Perceived the fragrance as be passed,
On eager wing the spoiler came,
And searched for cravnies in the frame,
Urged his attempt on every side,
To every pane his trunk applied;
But still in vain, the frame was tight,
And only pervious to the light:
Thus having wasted half the day,
He trimmed his flight another way.
Methinks, I said, in thee I find
The sin and madness of mankind.
To joys forbidden man aspires,
Consumes his soul with vain-desires;
Folly the spring of his pursuit,
And disappointment all the fruit,
Vhile Cynthio ogles, as she passes,
The nymph between two cbariot glasses,
She is the pine-apple, and he
The silly unsuccessful bee.
The maid, who views with pensive air
The show.glass fraught with glittering ware,
Sees watches, bracelets, rings, and lockets,
But sighs at thought of empty pockets;
Like thine, her appetite is keen,
But ah, the cruel glass between!
Our dear delights are often such,
Exposed to view, but not to touch;
The sight our foolish heart inflames,
We long for pine apples in frames;
With hopeless wish one looks and lingers;
One breaks the glass, and cuts his fingers;
But they whom truth and wisdom lead,
Can gather honey from a weed.
HORACE. Book the 2d. Ode the 10.
Receive, dear friend, the truths I teach,
So shalt thou live beyond the reach
Of adverse Fortune's power ;
Not always tempt the distant deep,
Nor always timorously creep
Along the treacherous shore.
He, that bolds fast the golden mean,
And lives contentedly between
The little and the great,
Feels not the wants, that pinch the poor,
Nor plagues, that haunt the rich man's door,
Imbittering all his state.
The tallest pines feel most the powot
Of wintry blasts; the loftiest tower
Comes heaviest to the ground;
The bolts, that spare the mountain's side,
His cloud-capt eminence divide,
And spread the ruin round.
The well informed philosopher
Rejoices with an wholesome fear,
And hopes, in spite of pain;
If winter bellow from the north,
Soon the sweet spring comes dancing forth,
And nature laughs again.
What if thine heaven be overcast,
The dark appearance
will not last;
Expect a brighter sky.
The God, that strings the silver bow,
Awakes sometimes the muses too,
And lays his arrows by,
If hindrances obstruct thy way,
Thy magnanimity display,
And let thy strength be seen;
But ah! if Fortune fill thy sail
With more than a propitious gale,
Take half thy canvass in.
And is this all ? Can reagon do no more
Than bid me shun the deep, and dread the shore?
Sweet moralist! afloat on lifeis rough sea,
The Christian has an Art unknown to the
He holds no parley with anmamly fears
Where duty bids be confidently steers,
Faces a thousand dangers at her call,
And, trusting in his God, surmounts them all.
The nymph mást lose ħer female friend,
If more admired than she
But where will fierce contention ende
If flowers can disagree?
Within the garden's peaceful scene
Appeared two lovely foes,
Aspiring to the rank of queen,
The Lily and the Rose.
The Rose soon reddened into rage,
And swelling with disdain,
Appealed to many a poet's page
To prove her right to reign.
The Lily's height bespoke command,
A fair imperial flower ;
She seemed designed for Flora's hand,
The sceptre of her power.
This civil bickering and debate
The goddess chanced to hear,
"And flew to save, ere yet too late,
The pride of the parterre;
Yours, is, she said, the nobler hue,
And yours the statelier mien; And, till a third surpasses you, Let each be deemed a queen.
Thus soothed and reconciled, each seeks,
The fairest British fair :
The seat of empire is her cheeks,
They reigp united there,