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• But let a maid thy pity share,
• Whom love has taught to ftray ; • Who seeks for reft, but finds despair
• Companion of her way.
• My father liv'd beside the Tyne,
! A wealthy lord was he ; • And all his wealth was mark'd as mine ;
• He had but only me.
" To win me from his tender arms
: Unnumber'd suitors came ; • Who prais'd me for imputed charms,
• And felt, or feign'd a flame.
• Each hour a mercenary crowd
• With richest proffers frove ; • Among the rest young Edwin bow'd,
• But never talk'd of love.
• In humble, simplest habit clad,
: No wealth or power had he; • Wisdom and worth were all he had,
? But these were all to me.
• The blossom opening to the day,
« The dews of heaven refin'd, : Could nought of purity display
• To emulate his mind.
« The dew, the blossoms of the tree,
6' With charms inconstant shine : « Their charms were his ; but, woe to me!
Their constancy was mine.
• For ftill I try'd each fickle art,
* Importunate and vain ; • And while his pallion touch'd my heart,
• I triumph'd in his pain :
• No, never from this hour to part;.
« We'll live and love fo true, • The figh that ronds thy constant heart
• Shall break thy Edwin's too!'
BY WILLIAM WHITEHEAD, ES
NCE, I remember well the day,
'Twas ere the blooming sweets of May
Of sunshine and of dews.
In short, 'twas that sweet season's prime,
To Summer's glowing hand,
Which fan the smiling land.
'Twas then, beside a green-wood fhade,
I urg'd my devious way,
So wond'rous.bright the day,
And now my eyes with transport rove
Unbroken by a cloud!
And now beneath delighted pass,
A full-brimm'd river flow'd.
I ftop, I gaze ; in accents rude,
Burft forth th' unbidden lay: ,
And pity e'en the gay.
• These, these are joys alone,' I cry; < 'Tis here, divine Philosophy,
• Thou deign'it to fix thy throne ! • Here Contemplation points the road, • Thro' Nature's charms, to Nature's God!
• These, these are joys alone!
Adieu, ye vain low-thoughted cares, • Ye human hopes, and human fears,
• Ye pleasures and ye pains !' While thus I fpake, o'er all my soul A philosophick calmness stole,
A stoick fillness reigns.
The tyrant paffions all subside,
No more my bosom move ;
Of universal love.
When, lo! a voice, a voice I hear! 'Twas Reason whisper'd in my car
These monitory Irains :
· What mean'st thou, man? would'I thou ùnbind
• The pleasures and the pains?"
· Shall light and Made, and warmth and air,
Which active Virtue feels !
• At her triumphant wheels,
• As reft to labour ftill succeeds
• Employ his toilfome day: 9:00 11:50