Dry up thy tears, and cease to mourn, Accept from me this magic zone, Tie up thy locks, thy dress improve, The zone about her waist she ties, Now in the stream she views her face, Exults at charms so fair; The while she studied ev'ry grace, Enraptur'd to her arms he flew, Ye wedded dames, my hints descry, T. M. E. G. EPIGRAM, On angling at Kelham after the death of the late Duke of Newcastle, who, when Lord Lincoln, had a temporary residence there. AN IMPROMPTU. IN the trials of patience which pursue us thro' life, THE SIMPE SWAIN. A PASTORAL. IN wayward mood, in passion's guise, I hail'd the gloom-I sought the grove, Haply to meet the peerless maid, All comfortless I sought; To lull my woes, to still my pain, I lov'd the soft elegiac strain, And fair poetic thought. C. S. But musings that seclusions bring, Are nought to heal a lover; Chance leads the fair one to the vale; The past'ral maid, in all her charms, Gone were my tears, my pangs, my sighs, Ah! shepherd swains, of LOOKS beware, And SENSE th' important rule; When but one moon had run its round, English Chronicle. TO A PHYSICIAN, On his Marriage. DEAR Doctor, let me wish you joy, If 'tis not past the wishing season; Let me, as poets use, employ A little rhyme, a little reason. No jokes on human nature fear, Forgive me, if too fond of rule, All strife for empire be abhorr'd; Yet souls no difference know of sexes. Your griefs and pleasures let her share, And raise the sweets of ev'ry blessing. Nor joy, nor jar, be heard or seen, May rolling years, that strength impair, O! may her mind appear most fair, Safe may you rest thro' life's decline, Till he, whose universal dart The learn'd and fair must suffer under, English Chronicle. SONNET TO FORTITUDE. FROM PETARCH. NYMPH of the rock! whose dauntless spirit braves Is the false fleeting meteor, Happiness, That still misleads the wanderers of the earth! Strengthen'd by thee, this heart shall cease to melt O'er ills thar poor Humanity must bear; Nor friends estrang'd, or ties dissolv'd be felt, |