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Her pencil weds assenting dies,
And see a new-born world arise.
Here charms the eye the blossom'd grove,
Where, looking bliss, young Lovers rove;
There serpentine the river glides,
And nibbling flocks adorn its sides.
Soft'ning to flesh the marble lives,
And takes each attitude she gives:
Here nerv'd to strength the Hero stands,
There Orators extend their hands, 42
The Patriot here, by Freedom's side,
Smiling pours out the vital tide;
Here Beauty charms the gazing eye,
The Loves and Graces waiting by:
Is it the breeze that wakes the Spring,
Or say, does Philomela sing,
And bid the list’ning ear rejoice?
'Tis music tunes her heav'nly voice,
Her voice of sweetest skill to raise -
The drooping heart ten thousand ways.”
Now heav'n-caught fury fires the soul,
And spurning oft earth's dull control,
Vent’rous she wings her full-plum'd flight,
Detects new regions of delight;
Led by th’ enchantress Fancy roves,
The Muses' gay ideal groves,
Where countless beings strike her eye,
Confus'd in glitt'ring novelty:
But what the varied years delight,
Or what the mental ken so bright, be

Or what the kind inspiring Muses, .
To bliss that genuine love transfuses!
The parent fond impassion'd flow,
The filial duteous grateful glow,
Congenial friendship, heav'nly true, -
And pity pressing balmy dew.
The feast of converse, that dispenses
Rapture to fill up all the senses,
Where Reason, Mirth, good Humor sit,
And Beauty sparkles into wit. : o
Here too, as in the natural scene,
Triumphs the Mind, creative queen,
Here Fancy, with illusion kind,
Indulges ev'ry longing mind,
Brings to the Lover, in despair
His mutually impassion'd Fair,
Adorns the frightful female face
With beauties cull'd from every Grace;
Instructs Ambition's slave to nod,
And bids the reptile soar a God, ... zoo
Applauds the Bard’s prosaic songs,
Gives eloquence to stamm'ring tongues,
Lets Ocean's sons their haven gain,
Unbinds the Captive's galling chain;
To Poverty each joy bestows, -
From rich Humantity that flows,
Gives her at once herself to bless,
And charm the Virtues in distress,
Yet still reserves the sapient Mind,
Her darling free-born joy behind, - zoo
When with fond eyes she loves to trace
The beauties of her moral race,
And with blithe confidence can say,
She liv'd with Virtue ev'ry day,
That still she urg’d life’s great design, .
To fit herself for bliss divine ;
Then Conscience lends the plausive note,
Thro’ ev’ry sense of joy to float,
Strikes music from each vital string,
That envies not when Angels sing ; zzo
Dissolv’d in extasy she lies,
And sweetly pre-enjoys the skies.

W RITT EN IN A COT TAGE AT

PARK-PLACE.

The Seat of the Right Hon.

GENERAL CONWAY.
BY THE REV. MR. POWYS.

The works of Art let others praise,
Where Pride her waste of wealth betrays,
And Fashion, independent grown,
Usurps her parent Nature's throne, -
Laysall her fair dominions waste, /. */
And calls the devastation Taste. T
But I—who ne'er, with servile awe,
Give Fashion’s whims the force of law, Á
Scorn all the glitter of expence, for to
When destitute of use and sense. zo
More pleas'd to see the wanton rill, tor
Which trickles from some craggy hill,
Free thro’ the valley wind its way,
Than when, immur'd in walls of clay, "
It strives in vain its bonds to break,
And stagnates in a crooked lake.

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With sighs I see The native oak
Bow to th’ inexorable stroke. Gr
Whilst an exotic puny race
Of upstart shrubs usurps its place, _za or
Which, born beneath a milder sky,
Shrink at a wintry blast, and die. ~
I ne'er behold without a smile
The venerable Gothic pile, or or
which in our father's wiser age
Was shelter'd from the tempest's rage,
Stand to the dreary north expos'd, U-
within a Chinese fence inclos'd.

For me, each leaden God may reign In quiet o'er his old domain; 2. Their claim is good by Poet's laws, And Poets must support their cause. But when old Neptune's fish-tail'd train Of Tritons, haunts an upland plain; . . . When Dian seems to urge the chace, of a ' In a snug garden's narrow space ; When Mars, with insult rude, invades The virgin Muses' peaceful shades; With light'ning arm’d, when angry Jove 4. Scares the poor tenants of the grove, 40 A. I cannot blindly league with those, Who thus the Poet's creed oppose. To Nature, in my earliest youth, I vow'd my constancy and truth;

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