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FLORU S.

See! from the bower a form majestic moves,
And smoothly gliding fhines along the groves;
Say, comes a goddess from the golden spheres ?
A goddess comes, or Rofalind appears!

DAMON.

Shine forth, thou fun, bright ruler of the day,
And where the treads, ye flowers, adorn the way!
Rejoice, ye groves, my heart dismiss thy cares !
My Goddess comes, my Rofalind appears.

POVERTY

AND

POETRY.

WAS fung of old how one Amphion,
Could by his verfes tame a lion;

And by his ftrange enchanting tunes,
Make bears or wolves dance rigadoons:
His fongs could call the timber down,
And form it into house or town;
But it is plain that in these times
No houfe is rais'd by poets rhymes;
They for themselves can only rear
A few wild caftles in the air;
Poor are the brethren of the bays,
Down from high strains, to ekes and ayes.
The Mufes too are virgins yet,

And may be-till they portions get.

Yet

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Yet ftill the doating rhymer dreams,
And fings of Helicon's bright streams,
But Helicon, for all his clatter,
Yields only uninspiring water;
Yet ev❜n athirst he fweetly fings,
Of Nectar, and Elyfian fprings.

What dire malignant planet fheds,
Ye bards, his influence on your heads?
Lawyers, by endless controverfies,
Confume unthinking clients purses,

As Pharoah's kine, which ftrange and odd is,
Devour'd the plump and well-fed bodies.

The grave phyfician, who by phyfic,
Like death, dispatches him that is fick,
Purfues a fure and thriving trade,
Though patients die, the doctor's paid;
Licens'd to kill, he gains a palace,
For what another mounts the gallows.

In fhady groves the Mufes ftray,
And love in flowery meads to play
An idle, crew! whofe only trade is
To fhine in trifles, like our ladies ;
In dreffing, dancing, toying, finging,
While wifer Pallas thrives by fpinning;
Thus they gain nothing to bequeath
Their votaries, but a laurel wreath.

But love rewards the bard! the fair
Attend his fong, and ease his care :

Alas!

Alas! fond youth, your plea you urge ill
Without a jointure, though a Virgil;
Could you like Phoebus fing, in vain
You nobly fwell the lofty ftrain,
Coy Daphne flies, and you will find as
Hard hearts as hers in your Belindas.

But then fome fay you purchase fame,
And gain that envy'd prize, a name;
Great recompence! like his who fells
A diamond, for beads and bells;
Will fame be thought fufficient bail
To keep the poet from the jail?

Thus the brave foldier, in the wars,
Gets empty praise, and aking scars:
Is paid with fame and wooden legs,
And ftarv'd, the glorious vagrant begs.

To a LADY, playing with a SNAKE.

IT is a pleafing, direful fight!

At once you charm us, and affright !

So heaven deftroying angels arms
With terror, dreadful in their charms!

Such, fuch was Cleopatra's air,
Lovely, but formidably fair,

When the griev'd world impoverish'd loft
By the dire afp, its noblest boast.

Aw'd

Aw'd by your guardian's dangerous power, At distance trembling we adore;

At distance, once again behold

A ferpent guard the blooming gold.

Well pleas'd, and harmlefs, lo! he lies,
Basks in the funfhine of your eyes;
Now twifts his fpires, and now unfurls
The gay confufion of his curls.

Oh! happy on your breast to lie,
As that bright* ftar that gilds the sky,
Who ceafing in the fpheres to fhine,
Would, for your breaft, his heaven refign.

Yet oh! fair virgin, caution take,
Left fome bold cheat affume the fnake;
When Jove compreft the † Grecian dame,
Aloof he threw the lightning's flame;
On radiant fpires the lover rode,
And in the fnake conceal'd the God.

To a LADY of THIRTY.

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more let youth its beauty boast,

S -n at Thirty reigns a toast:

And like the fun as he declines,

More mildly, but more sweetly shines.

* The fcorpion.

+ Olympias, mother of Alexander the Great.

The

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How muft fhe then each heart engage,
Who blooms like youth, is wife like age!

Thus the rich orange-trees produce
At once both ornament, and use:
Here opening blossoms we behold,
There fragrant orbs of ripen'd gold.

On the Birth-Day of a Gentleman when three
Years old.

Awake, fweet babe 1 the fun's emerging tay

That gave you birth, renews the happy day!

Calmly ferene, and glorious to the view,

He marches forth, and ftrives to look like you.

Fair beauty's bud! when time shall stretch thy fpan,
Confirm thy charms, and ripen thee to man,
What plenteous fruits thy bloffoms fhall produce,
And yield not barren ornament, but use?
Ev'n now thy fpring a rich increase prepares
To crown thy riper growth, and manly years.

Thus in the kernel's intricate disguise,

In miniature a little orchard lies,

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The

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