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V E R S E S,

WRITTEN AT THE REQUEST OF A GENTLEMAN TO WHOM A LADY HAD GIVEN A

SPRIG OF MYRTLE*.

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HA T hopes, what terrors, does this gift create ?

Ambiguous emblem of uncertain fate.
The myrtle (enfign of supreme command,
Consign’d to Venus by Melissa's hand)
Not less capricious than a reigning fair,
Oft favours, oft rejects, a lover's pray’r.
In myrtle shades oft fings the happy fwaiit,
In myrtle shades despairing ghosts complain.
The myrtle crowns the happy lovers heads,
Th’unhappy lovers graves the mrytle spreads.
Oh! then, the meaning of thy gift impart,
And ease the throbbings of an anxious heart.
Soon must this sprig, as you shall fix its doom,
Adorn Philander's head, or grace his tomb.

* These verses were firft printed in a Magazine for 1768, But were written between forty and fifty years ago. Elegant as they are, they were composed in the Mort space of five minutes.

To

To Lady FIRE BRACE*,

At BURY ASSIZES.

A

T length must Suffolk beauties shine in vain,

So long renown'd in B-n's deathless strain ? Thy charms at least, fair Firebrace, might inspire Some zealous bard to wake the sleeping lyre; For, such thy beauteous mind and lovely face, Thou seem'st at once, bright nymph, a Muse and

Grace.

To LYCE, an elderly Lady.

Y
E nymphs whom starry rays invest,

By flattering poets given,
Who shine, by lavish lovers drest,
In all the

pomp

of Heaven ;

Engrofs not all the beams on high,

Which gild a lover's lays, But, as your fister of the sky,

Let Lyce share the praise.

* This lady was Bridget, third daughter of Philip Bacon, Esq. of Ipfwich, and relict of Philip Evers, Esq. of that town. She became the second wife of Sir Cordell Firebrace, the last Baronet of that name (to whom she brought a fortune of 25,000l.), July 26, 1737. Being again left a widow in 1759, she was a third time married, April 7, 1762, to William Campbell, Esq. uncle to the present Duke of Argyle; and died July 3, 1782.

Her

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To Miss *****

ON HER PLAYING UPON THE HAR PSICHORD IN A

ROOM HUNG WITH FLOWER-PIECES

OF HER OWN PAINTING*.

hen Stella strikes the tuneful ftring WHEN

In scenes of imitated Spring,
Where Beauty lavishes her powers
On beds of never-fading flowers,
And Pleasure propagates around
Each charm of modulated found;
Ah! think not in the dangerous hour,
The nymph fictitious as the flower;
But fhun, rafh youth, the gay alcove,

, Nor tempt the snares of wily love.

When charms thus press on every sensc,
What thought of light, or of defence ?
Deceitful hope, and vain defire,
For ever flutter o'er her lyre,
Delighting as the youth draws nigh,
To point the glances of her eye,
And forming with unerring art
New chains to hold the captive heart.

But on those regions of delight
Might truth intrude with daring flight,
Could Stella, sprightly, fair, and young,
One moment hear the moral song,
Instruction with her flowers might spring,
And wisdom warble from her ftring.

* Printed among Mrs. Williams's Miscellanics.

Mark

Mark when from thousand mingled dyes Thou seest one pleasing form arise, How active light, and thoughtful shade, In greater scenes each other aid. Mark when the different notes agree In friendly contrariety, How paffion's well accorded strife Gives all the harmony of life; Thy pictures shall thy conduct frame, Confiftent still, though not the same ; Thy musick teach the nobler art, To tune the regulated heart.

EVENING: an Ode.

To ST E L L A.

E

VENING now from purple wings

Sheds the grateful gifts the brings;
Brilliant drops bedeck the mead,
Cooling breezes shake the reed;
Shake the reed, and curl the stream
Silver'd o'er with Cynthia's beam ;
Near the chequer'd, lonely grove,
Hears, and keeps thy secrets, Love.
Stella, thither let us stray,
Lightly o'er the dewy way.
Phoebus drives his burning car,
Hence, my lovely Stella, far;
In his stead, the queen of night
Round us pours a lambent light;

Light that seems but just to show
Breasts that beat, and cheeks that glows
Let us now, in whisper'd joy,
Evening's filent bours employ,
Silence beft, and conscious shades,
Please the hearts that love invades,
Other pleasures give them pain,
Lovers all but love disdain.

Τ Ο Τ Η Ε S A ME.

W

"HETHER

Fix'd on earth, or glancing round,
If her face with pleasure glow,
If she sigh at others woe,
If her easy air express
Conscious worth, or soft distress,
Stella's eyes, and air, and face,
Charm with undiminish'd grace.

If on her we see display'd
Pendant gems, and rich brocade,
If her chintz with less expence
Flows in easy negligence ;
Still the lights the conscious flame,
Still her charms appear the same;
If the strikes the vocal strings,
If she's silent, speaks, or sings,
If the fit, or if she move,
Still we love and still approve.

Vain the casual, tranfient glance,
Which alone can please by chance,

Beauty,

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