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First love, by friendship in
That rears aloft the card-buizes
Or prisiine avecdote, or bizzare este
To such society, so forra':,
$ 204. Flowers.
Bishop. Superstition came telling her steps and her UNEQUAL to my theme with desperate feet
beads, I sought the Muse's bow'r ;
Like Jack-in-a-Bush hang all over with Anxious to see though all asham'd to meet
green, Some bland inspiring power;
Agnus Castus by wholesale she cull'd from the When fleet along the rising gale
meads, The queen fair Fancy past;
And stuck with due care Holy Thistle beAnd through her rainbow-tinged veil
tween : A glance benignant cast!
A chaplet of Monkshood she pluck'd for her Then beck’ning to a secret glade,
head, “Come see," she cry'd, " the train, And Rosemary sprigs for the graves of the dead. Who own beneath this mystic shade, My visionary reign !"
Tiptoe o'er the level plain,
Ardent Hope all panting few;
Prompt her eager eye to strain
Far beyond the present view;
Quick from hint to hint to stray,
She the Primrose held most dear;
First-born of returning May,
Promise of the future year.
Ill-nature to a corner stole,
As if she long'd to blight
happier scent and hue, With frank, firm look, and light though steady For none she chose of all that grew, tread
Save pois’nous Aconite.
Hand in hand, for they never asunder are seen,
All cheerful their features, all easy their mien, His very essence-bloom that gently glows Contentment and Innocence tript it along; Impelld by gentle breath--prone to dispense By the soft virgin Snow-drop was Innocence To all, sweetness, yet alert to show,
known : If rash invasion ruder deeds commence,
Contentment took Heart-ease, and call'd it her
in the Retiring from the public eye,
The throng !-just hint to wild conceit like
mine; And all unconscious what fair fame
Why, what a wreath had I begun to twine! Merit like hers might well assume,
Indulgent as she was, methinks I hear Preferr’d to every juster claim
E'en Fancy's self now whisper in my ear, The lowly Daisy's simple bloom.
“ Quit ere 'tis tedious, quit the flowing road,
Nor what was meant a nosegay, make a load.''
Moore's Fables. BISHOP.
Books, my dear girl, when well design'd,
Are moral maps of human kind;
Where, sketch'd before judicious eyes,
The road to worth and wisdom lies.
Serene Philosophy portrays
The steep, the rough, the thorny ways:
Cross woods and wilds, the learned tribe, Hardy plant whose vigorous shoot
A dark and doubtful path describe :
But Poesy her votaries leads
O'er level lawns, and verdant meads;
Through Fable's scenes she guides her train,
All is at once enchanted ground,
All Fancy's garden glitters round.
I, Sally! (who shall long to see,
how good your sex can be,)
you range with curious speed,
Where'er that garden's beauties leadą
Time, Thought, Remembrar, e
The greatest of erzas ples shall
Is there a man whon
And mark how Moore could once display
$ 206. The Lilrary. Biskor.
HAIL! Contemplation! grave majestic dame, Which my more humble care hath drest; In thee glad Science greets a parent's name : Where if a little flowret blows,
Thine is each art of speech, each rapt'rous From pure affection's root it grows.
The Graces lead, the Virtues fill thy train ! A virgin rose, in all the pride
From all of evil, life or dreads or knows, Of spring's luxuriant blushes dy'd,
Its real trifles, and its fancied woes, Above the vulgar flow'rs was rais'd,
O lead thy votary! pensive, yet serene, And with excess of lustre blaz'd.
To some lone seat, thy favorite, hallow'd scene, In full career of heedless play,
Where his calm breast may every pow'r emChance brought a Butterfly that way;
ploy, She stopp'd at once her giddy flight,
Feel self-born peace and independent joy. Proud on so sweet a spot to light;
And see! the Library my steps invites ; Spread wide her plumage to the sun,
Fraught with true profit and with pure deAnd thus in fancy-strain begun :
lights : Why but to soften my repose,
Calls to a feast, whose elegance and love, Could nature rear so bright a rose ?
The man must relish, and the heart approve. Why but on roses to recline,
How awful is the spot!—each honor d name, Make forms so delicate as mine?
Each theme of inodern praise, and early fame; Fate destin'd by the same decree,
Bards, statesmen, sages, lov’d, rever'd, adMe for the rose the rose for me!".
mir'd, Whom sense enlightend and whom glory
fir'd, A tiny Bug, who close between Th' unfolding bloom had lurk'd unseen,
Rise to my view, still sweet, still great, still
bold, Heard, and in angry tone address'd This rude invader of his rest :
Alive in pow'r, and active, as of old.
Yes! wasteful time! here, here, thy rage is “ For thee, consummate fool, the rose !
vain ! No-lo a nobler end it blows:The velvet o'er its foliage spread,
Away! fond boaster! Genius scorns thy reign.
The poet here, whom geo'rous transport Secures to me a downy bed :
rais'd, So thick its crowding leaves ascend
Survives coëval with the worth he prais d. To hide, to warm me, and defend.
If deeds exalted gave his breast to glow,
Or pity bade him sympathize with woe;
If sweetly soft he chose the lover's part,
Or truth to satire urg'd his honest heart;
His lyre still warbles, and his wit still charms.
The grave historian spreads his ample page; For once reluctant rais'd her head
Whose faithful care preserves the hero's fame, A moment from her toil, and said,
Or damos to infamy the traitor's name; “Cease, abject an'mals, to contest!
Whose records bid fair virtue ever live, They claim things most who use them best.
And share immortal in the life they give. Would nature finish works like these,
Here the firm patriot, on whose winning That butterflies might bask at ease ?
tongue Or bugs intrench'd in splendor lie,
The snow-soft dews of mild persuasion hung, Born but to crawl, and dose, and die? Who knew to lead in spirit, and control The rose you vainly ramble o'er,
The ductile passions, and usurp the soul ; Breathes balmy dews from ev'ry pore; Still pleads, still rules; now lively, now seWhich yield their treasur'd sweeis alone
vere, To skill and labor like iny own:
Exalts the purpose, or commands the tear.
Here the firin friends of science, and of man, The expanding blossom's glossy, grace ; Who taught new arts, or open'd nature's plan; Its shape, its fragrance, and its hue,
Who each improv'd, or drew from both comBut while I trace, improve them too :
bin'd, Still taste; but still from hour to hour
Health to the body, vigor to the mind; Bear home new honey from the Aow'r.”
Who bade mankind to nobler aims arise,
More good, more just, more happy, or more Conceit may read for mere pretence, For mere amusen.ent, indolence;
Shine, deathless, as the bliss their toil proTrue spirit deems no study right,
curd, Till profit dignify delight.
While mem'ry pays the debt desert ensur'd.
HAIL! Contemplation grant E2517
From all of evil, like a car
bere his calm breast Day OC 1 plov,
Feel seli-bom peace and indoors i
And see the Library of
The man must relish, and the
Each theme of modern para 2, 304
Birds, statesmen, aces
bold, Alive in pow's, and active, 3 ai si Yes! wasteful time! baze, jet, si
, and to as Here by the past to form the The grue historian spread as zeme
In such lov'd sport (if fortune deign'd to But soft-methinks some horrid sounds I smile),
hear! Calm let me live, and ev'ry care beguile; What throbbing passion speaks?--'Tis fear, Hold converse with the great of every time,
Rides in tremendous triumphs; Ocean bends ;
E'en Fancy starts at forms herself hath made.
Let them whom terror can inspire, pursue § 207. Water. BISHOP.
Themes too terrific: I with humble view,
Retire unequal, nor will e'er again
To Water's greater works devote my strain ;
On Instruments of Music. BISHOP. (Though all the inspiring potions he explore, From Water up to Nectar) can no more. Where health and high spirits awaken the From earth's deep wound--for earth their store supplies
And dash through the dews that impearl the Through countless pores the moist effluvia rise,
To shouts and to cries
shout greets the horn.
Sweetly mellowing down the vale,
bestrides the gale ;
Herald eager to proclaim
The lover's bliss, or hero's fame.
In pleasure's realms our feet detain,
Where youth and beauty, in the dance,
Or shall we stray,
Where stately through the public way,
Nobles and chiefs of venerable fame;
To public view the lustre of its rays,
Attention's sober ears to hallow'd walls,
Devotion seeks, with stedfast eyes, [shade, No certain current; till again combin'd,
The God whose glories every gloom pervade,
To whom for ever prayer is made,
And daily praises rise.
Mingled by the master's cunning,
Canbria, 'twas thy harps of old
Each gallant heart's recess explor'd,
To grace the hospitable board.
W nose faithful care present I LETU
Exalıs the purpose, or onnan
flere the tren tres di CiaL, ET
Mark how the soldier's eye
This sets her beauty in the fairest light, Looks proud defiance! How his heart beats And shows each grace in full perfection bright; high,
Then, as she turns around, from every part, With glorious expectation! What inspires, Like porcupines, she sends a piercing dart: What fans his martial fires?
In vain, alas! the fond spectator tries What but the power of sound ?
To shun the pleasing dangers of the eyes, The clam'rous drums his anxious ardor raise, For, Parthian-like, she wounds as sure behind His blood flows quicker round;
With flowing curls, on ivory neck reclin'd. At once he hears, he feels, enjoys, obeys. Whether her steps the minuet's mazes trace, Where gathering storms incessant lower,
Or the slow Louvre's more majestic pace; And niggard nature chills th' abortive grain,
Whether the rigadoon employs her care, From her bleak heights see Scotland pour
Or sprightly jig displays the nimble fair; Blithe lads and lasses trim; a hardy train,
At ev'ry step new beauties we explore, Down the crag, and o'er the lea,
And worship now what we admir'd before. Following still with hearty glee,
So when Æneas, in the Tyrian grove, The bagpipe's mellow minstrelsy.
Fair Venus met, the charming queen of love, Where cloudless suns, with glowing dies,
The beauteous goddess, whilst uninov'd she
stood, Tinge Italy's serener skies,
Seem'd some fair nymph, the guardian of the Soft the winding lawns along The lover's lute complains ;
But when she mov'd, at once her heavenly mien, While ling'ring Echo learns the song,
And graceful step, consess'd bright beauty's Gives it the woods; and, loth to lose One accent of the inpassion'd muse,
queen : Bids woods return it to the plains.
New glories o'er her form each moment rise,
And all the goddess opens to his eyes. Time was, when, stretch'd beneath the beechen Now haste, my muse, pursue thy destin'd way; shade,
What dresses best become the dancer say; The simple shepherd warbled his sweet lay; The rules of dress forget not to impart, Lur'd to his rustic reed, the gentle maid A lesson precious to the dancing art. Welcoin'd the morn, and caroll'd down the The soldier's scarlet glowing from afar, day.
Shows that his bloody occupation's war; Why do our swains depart from ancient lore? Whilst the lawu band, beneath the doublechia, Why sounds no pastoral reed on Britain's shore? As plainly speaks divinity within ; -The innocence which tun'd it is no more! The milk-maid safe through driving rains, and
Wrapp'd in her cloak and proppid on pattens, $ 209. The Art of Dancing. Inscribed to the
goes ; Ri. Honorable the Lady Fanny Fielding. Whilst the soft belle, immur'd in velvet chair, In the smooth dance to move with graceful Needs but the silken shoe, and trusts her bosom mien,
bare. Easy with care, and sprightly, though serene, The woolly drab, and English broad-cloth To inark th' instructions echoing strains con
Guard well the horseman from the beating And with just steps each tuneful note obey, But load the dancer with too great a weight, I teach; be present, all ye sacred choir, And call from every pore the dewy swear. Blow the soft lute, and strike the sounding Rather let him his active limbs display lyre;
In camblets thin, or glossy paduasoy. When Fielding bids, your kind assistance bring, Let no unwieldy pride his shoulders press, And at her feet the lowly tribute flingi, But airy, light, and easy, be his dress; Oh, may her eyes (to her this verse is due) Thin be his yielding sole, and low his heel, What first themselves inspir’d vouchsafe to view. So shall he nimbly bound, and safely wheel. Hail, loftiest art! thou canst all hearts ensnare, But let not precepts known my verse prolong, And make the fairest still appear more fair ; Precepts which use will better teach than song; Beauty can little execution do,
For why should I the gallant spark command Unless she borrows half her charms from you! With clean white gloves to fit his ready hand ? Few, like Pygmalion, doat on lifeless charms, Or in his fob enlivening spirits wear, Or care to clasp a statue in their arms; And pungent salts to raise the fainting fair? But breasts of Aint must melt with fierce desire, Or hint the sword that dangles at his side, When art and motion wake the sleeping fire. Should from its silken bandage be untied? A Venus drawn by great Apelles' hand
Why should my lays the youthful tribe advise, May for a while our wond'ring eyes conımand; Lest snowy clouds from out their wigs arise ? But still, tho' form’d with all the pow'rs of art, So shall their partners mourn their laces spoild, The lifeless piece can never warm the heart: And shining silks with greasy powder soild. So fair a nymph, perhaps, may please the eye, Nor need I, sure, bid prudent youths beware, Whilst all her beauteous limbs unactive lie; Lest with erected tongues their buckles stare: But when her charms are in the dance display'd, The pointed steel shall oft their stocking rend, Then every heart adores the lovely maid; And oft the approaching petticoat offend.
And now, ye youthful fair, I sing to you, Oft will the cobweb-ornaments catch hold With pleasing smiles my useful labors view : On the approaching button rough with gold; For you the silk-worms fine-wrought webs dis- Nor force, nor art, can then the bonds divide, play,
When once th' entangled Gordian knot is tied : And lab’ring spin their little lives away; So the unhappy pair, by Hymen's pow'r For you bright gems with radiant colors glow, Together joind in some ill-fated hour, Fair as the dies that paint the heavenly bow ; The more they strive their freedom to regain, For you the sea resigns its pearly store, The faster binds th' indissoluble chain. And earth unlocks her mines of treasur'd ore; Let each fair maid, who fears to be disgraced, In vain yet nature thus her gifts bestows, Ever be sure to tie her garter fast, Unless yourselves with art those gifts dispose. Lest the loose string, amidst the public ball, Yet think not, nymphs, that in the glitt'ring A wish'd-for prize to some proud fop should ball,
fall, One form of dress prescrib'd can suit with all; Who the rich treasure shall triumphant show, One brightest shines when wealth and art com. And with warm blushes cause her cheek to bine
glow. To make the finish'd piece completely fine : But yet (as Fortune by the self-same ways When least adorn'd, another steals our hearts, She huinbles many, some delights to raise) And, rich in native beauties, wants not arts. It happend once, a fair illustrious dame In some are such resistless graces found, By such neglect acquired immortal fame: That in all dresses they are sure to wound; And thence the radiant star and garter blue, Their perfect forms all foreign aids despise, Britannia's noble grace, if fame says true ; And gems but borrow lustre from their eyes. Hence still, Plantagenet, thy beauties bloom, Let the fair nymph, in whose plump cheek Though long since moulder'd in the duský is seen
tomb; A constant blush, be clad in cheerful
green; Still thy lost garter is thy sovereign's care, In such a dress the sportive sea-nymphs go,
And what each royal breast is proud to wear. So in their grassy beds fresh roses blow : But let me now my lovely charge remind, The lass whose skin is like the hazel brown, Lest they forgetful leave their fans behind : With brighter yellow should o’ercome her own; | Lay not, ye fair, the pretty toy aside, While maids grown pale with sickness or A toy at once display'd for use and pride; despair,
A wondrous engine, that by magic charms The sable's mournful dye should choose to wcar: Cools your own breasts, and every other's So the pale moon still shines with purest light, Cloth'd in the dusky mantle of the night. What daring hand shall e'er attempt to tell
But far from you be all those treach'rous arts, The powers that in this little weapon dwell ? That wound with painted charms unwary What verse can e’er explain its various parts, hearts;
Its numerous uses, motions, charms, and arts? Dancing's a touchstone that true beauty tries, Its painted folds, that oft, extended wide, Nor suffers charms that nature's hand denies: Th'afflicted fair one's blubber'd beauties hide, Though for a while we may with wonder view When secret sorrows her sad bosom fill, The rosy blush and skin of lovely hue, If Strephon is unkind, or Shock is ill: Yet soon the dance will cause the cheeks to Its sticks, on which her eyes dejected pore, glow,
And pointing fingers number o'er and o'er, And melt the waxen lips and neck of snow. When the kind virgin burns with secret shame, So shine the fields in icy fetters bound, Dies to consent, yet fears to own her fame; Whilst frozen gems bespangle all the ground; Its shake triumphant, its victorious clap, Thro' the clear crystal of the glitt'ring snow, Its angry flutter, and its wanton tap. With scarlet die the blushing hawthorns glow; Forbear, my muse, th' extensive theme to O'er all the plains unnumber'd glories rise,
sing, And a new bright creation charms our eyes, Nor trust in such a Aight thy tender wing; Till Zephyr breathes, then all at once decay Rather do you in humble lines proclaim The splendid scenes, the glories fade away; From whence this engine took its form and The helds resign the beauties not their own,
name; And all their snowy charins run trickling Say from what cause it first deriv'd its birth, down.
How form'd in heav'n, how thence deduced Dare I in such momentous points advise,
to earth. I should condemn the hoop's enormous si ze. Once in Arcadia, that fam'd seat of love, Of ills I speak by long experience found : There liv'd a nymph, the pride of all the Oft have I trod th' unmeasurable round,
grove, And mourn'd my shins bruis'd black with | A lovely nymph, adorn'd with every grace, many a wound.
An easy shape and sweetly-blooming face; Nor should the tighten'd stays, too straitly Fanny the damsel's name, as chaste as fair, lac'd
Each virgin's envy, and each swain's despair. In whalebone bondage, gall the slender waist; To charmı her ear the rival shepherds sing, Nor waving lappets should the dancing fair, Blow the soft flute, and wake the trembling Nor ruffles edged with dangling