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Complain not if attachments lewd and base

Supplant thee in it, and usurp thy place.
But, if thou guard its sacred chambers sure
From vicious inmates and delights impure,
Either his gratitude shall hold him fast,
And keep him warm and filial to the last;
Or, if he prove unkind (as who can say
But, being man, and therefore frail, he may?)
One comfort yet shall cheer thine aged heart-
Howe'er he slight thee, thou hast done thy part.

Oh barb'rous! would'st thou with a Gothic hand

Pull down the schools what!-all the schools

i'th' land; Or throw them up to liv'ry-nags and grooms, Or turn them into shops and auction rooms? A captious question, fir, (and your's is one) Deserves an answer similar, or none. Would'st thou, possessor of a flock, employ (Appriz'd that he is such) a careless boy,

And feed him well, and give him handsome pay,
Merely to sleep, and let them run astray?
Survey our schools and colleges, and see
A sight not much unlike my

simile.
From education, as the leading cause,
The public character its colour draws;
Thence the prevailing manners take their cast,
Extravagant or sober, loose or chaste.
And, though I would not advertise them yet,
Nor write on eachThis Building to be Let,
Unless the world were all prepar'd t' embrace
A plan well worthy to supply their place;
Yet, backward as they are, and long have been,
To cultivate and keep the morals clean,
(Forgive the crime) I wish them, I confess,
Or better manag'd, or encourag'd less.

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THE DEATH

OP

MRS. THROCK MORTON'S

BULFINCH.

Ye nymphs! if e'er your eyes were red
With tears o'er hapless fav’rites shed,

O share Maria's grief!
Her fav'rite, even in his cage,
(What will not hunger's cruel rage?)

Assassin'd by a thief.

Where Rhenus strays his vines among,
The egg was laid from which he

sprung,
And though by nature mute,
Or only with a whistle blest,
Well-taught, he all the sounds express'd.

Of flagelet or flute.

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The honours of his ebon poll
Were brighter than the sleekest mole;

His bosom of the hue

With which Aurora decks the skies,

When piping winds shall soon arise

To sweep up all the dew.

Above, below, in all the house,

Dire foe, alike to bird and mouse,

No cat had leave to dwell;

And Bully's cage supported stood,
On
props

of smoothest-shaven wood,
Large-built and lattic'd well.

Well-lattic'd--but the grate, alas!
Not rough with wire of steel or brass,

For Bully's plumage sake,

But smooth with wands from Ouse's side,

With which, when neatly peeld and dried,

The swains their baskets make.

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