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Time-The Morning

YE Persian maids, attend your poet's lays, And hear how shepherds pass their golden days. Not all are blest, whom fortune's hand sustains With wealth in courts, nor all that haunt the plains; Well may your hearts believe the truths I tell ! 'Tis virtue makes the bliss, where'er we dwell.

Thus Selim sung, by sacred truth inspir'd; Nor praise, but such as truth bestow'd, desir'd: Wise in himself, his meaning songs convey'd Informing morals to the shepherd maid; Or taught the swains that surest bliss to find, What groves nor streams bestow, a virtuous mind.

When sweet and blushing, like a virgin bride The radiant morn resum'd her orient pride, When wanton gales along the valleys play, Breathe on each flower,and bear their sweets aways By Tigris' wandering waves he sat, and sung This useful lesson for the fair and young..

Ye Persian dames, he said, to you belong, Well may they please, the morals of my song: No fairer maids, I trust, than you are found, Grac'd with soft arts, the peopled world around ! The morn that lights you, to your loves supplies Each gentler ray delicious to your eyes . For you those flowers her fragrant hands bestow, And yours the love that kings delight to know. Yet think not these, all beauteous as they are, The best kind blessings Heaven can grant the fair; Who trust alone in beauty's feeble ray, Boast but the worth Bassora's pearls display;. Drawn from the deep, we own their surface bright, But, dark, within, they drink no lustrous light:

Such are the maids,and such the charms they boast,
By sense unaided, or to virtue lost.
Self-fattering sex! your hearts believe in vain
That love shall blind,when once he fires the swainz
Or hope a lover by your faults to win,
As spots on ermin beautify the skin.
Who seeks secure to rule, be first her care
Each softer virtue that adorns the fair ;
Each tender passion man delights to find,
The lov'd perfections of a female mind!

Blest were the days,when wisdom held her reign, And shepherds sought her on the silent plain; With Truth she wedded in the secret grove, Immortal Truth, and daughters bless'd their love.

O haste, fair maids !'ye Virtues, come away! Sweet Peace and Plenty lead you on your way! The balmy shrub for you shall love our shore, By Ind excell’d, or Araby, no more.

Lost to our fields; for so the Fates ordain, The dicar deserters shall return again.

Come thou, whose thoughts as limpid springs are

To lead the train, sweet Modesty appear:[clear, Here make thy court amidst our rural scene, And shepherd-girls shall own thee for their queen. With thee be Chastity, of all afraid, Distrusting all, a wise, suspicious maid; But man the most not more the mountain doe Holds the swift falcon for her deadly foe. Cold is her breast, like flowers that drink the dew; A silken veil conceals her from the view. No wild desires amidst thy train be known, But Faith, whose heart is fix'd on one alone; Desponding Meekness with her downcast eyes, And friendly Pity, full of tender sighs ; ; And Love the last: by these your hearts approve, These are the virtues that must lead to love.

Thus sung the swain; and ancient legends say, The maids of Bagdat verified the lay: Dear to the plains, the Virtues came along, The shepherds lov'd, and Selim bless'd his song.





A-BRACE of sinners, for no good,

Were order'd to the Virgin Mary's shrine, Who at Loretto dwelt, in wax, stone, wood,

And in a fair white wig look'd wond'rous fine.

Fifty long miles had those sad rogues to travel,
With something in their shoes much worse than
In short, their loes so gentle to amuse, (gravel;
The priest had order'd peas into their shoes :
A nostrum famous in old Popish times
For purifying souls that stunk with crimes ;

A sort of apostolic salt,
That Popish parsons for its pow'rs exalt,
For keeping souls of sinners sweet,
Just as our kitchen salt keeps meat.

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