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To purchase thee, from caverns deep
The miser brings his treasur'd heap;
The sage, with reason's boasted arms
Awhile may combat beauty's charms,
But soon a bursting sigh will prove
That reason never conquers love.
Yet ere I bow before thy shrine,
And hail thy pow'r with rites divine,
O blest enchantress, deign to tell
In what consists thy magic spell!
Is it an eye whose sparkling rays
Eclipse the diamond's fainter blaze;
A cheek that shames the vernal rose;
A breast that vies with mountain snows;
A mouth that smiles with matchless grace,
Like pearls within a ruby case;

A shape like that which once was seen
On Ida, when the Cyprian queen
Disclos'd her charms to mortal eyes,
Contending for the golden prize?
These may, our warmest passions fire,
And kindle every fierce desire;
But love upheld by these alone,
Must soon resign his tott'ring throne,
And hold a poor precarious sway,
The short-liv'd beauty of a day.
Or e'en to form a nymph complete,
If all the various charms could meet

Which each divided bosom warm,
And every throbbing pulse alarm ;
When Johnson, Meynell, Pitt, advance,
And Wroughton joins the sprightly dance;
And lovely Spencer, mild and fair,
Comes blushing forth with Hebe's air:
Yet these were vain, unless to these
Were join'd the secret pow'r to please;
That nameless something undefin'd;
That soft effusion of the mind,
Which sweetly smiles in every face;
To ev'ry motion lends a grace;
And when their beauty points a dart,
Impels and guides it to the heart.
In vain the stealing hand of time
May pluck the blossoms of their prime.
Envy may talk of bloom decay'd,
How lilies droop, and roses fade :
But constancy's unalter'd truth,
Regardless of the vows of youth;
Affliction that recalls the past,
And bids the pleasing influence last,
Shall still preserve the lover's flame
In every scene of life the same;
And still with fond endearment blend
The wife, the mistress, and the friend.

St. James's Chronicle.

VERSES.

HER gentle aid let Consolation lend :

"All human evils hasten to their end."
The storin abates at every gust it blows:
Past ills enhance the comforts of repose.
He, who ne'er felt the pressure of distress,
Ne'er felt returning pleasure's keen excess.
Time, who affliction bore on rapid wing,
My panting heart to happiness may bring:
I, on my native hills, may yet inhale
The purer influence of the ambient gale.
Ah! scenes of carly joy! ah! much-lov'd shades!
Soon may my footsteps tread your vernal glades.
Ah! should kind heav'n permit me to explore
Your seats of stili tranquillity once more!
E'en now, to fancy's visionary eye,

Hope shows the flatt'ring hour of transport nigh.
Blue shines the ether, when the storm is past,
And calm repose succeeds to sorrow's blast.
Flourish ye scenes of ever new delight!
Wave wide your branches to my ravish'd sight.
While, ne'er to roam again, my wearied feet
Seek the kind refuge of your calm retreat.

Haller.

VERSES

ON A SHEET OF BLANK PAPER.

FAIR spotless leaf, (thou emblem pure

Of innocence) beware;

Nor think thy beauty lives secure : 'Tis dang'rous to be fair.

To wit obscene, and impious jest,
Thou liest too much expos'd:
Give truth possession of thy breast,

Or be for ever clos'd.

Some wanton pen may scrawl thee o'er And blot thy virgin face:

And whiteness, deem'd thy praise before, May turn to thy disgrace.

O give me then thy faultless page,
E'er yet foul stains be drank;

On virtue's side with me engage,
Nor leave for vice a blank.

By thee shall idle vacant hearts
This useful moral learn,

That, unemploy'd, the brightest parts
To vice and folly turn.

By thee shall innocence be taught
What dangers wait on youth,
Unless with early precepts fraught,
And prepossess'd with truth.

By thee shall beauty learn to yield
To real worth her charms;

For virtue (tho' an ample shield)
But incompletely arms.

Thicknesse.

EPIGRAM,

On seeing the Lady of Sir John Day, and Miss Orchard, her cousin, pass through Birmingham, in December, on their way to London.

WHILE nipping frosts, with deadly bite,

Our choicest fruits consume;
Behold, to feast, at least our sight,
An Orchard in full bloom!

And what is passing strange beside,

'Tis equal truth to say,

That, just preceding Christmas tide,

Pops on us Lady Day!

Anonymous.

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