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Snatch half a glimpse at Concert, Opera, Ball,
Last the grey Dowager, in ancient flounces,
and ridicule of Goth and Vandal,
Thus Woman makes her entrance and her exit; Not least an actress when she least suspects it. Yet Nature oft peeps out and mars the plot, Each lesson lost, each poor pretence forgot ; Full oft, with energy that scorns controul, At once lights up the features of the soul; Unlocks each thought chained down by coward Art, And to full day the latent passions start ! -And she, whose first, best wish is your applause, Herself exemplifies the truth she draws.
Born on the stage—thro' every shifting scene,
ON .. ASLEEP.
SLEEP on, and dream of Heaven awhile.
Ah, now soft blushes tinge her cheeks,
She starts, she trembles, and she weeps ! Her fair hands folded on her breast. -And how like a saint she sleeps ! A seraph in the realms of rest !
Sleep on secure! Above controul,
the secret of thy soul Remain within its sanctuary !
FROM A GREEK EPIGRAM.
While on the cliff with calm delight she kneels,
Far better taught, she lays her bosom bare, And the fond boy springs back to nestle there.
Chere is a streamlet issuing from a rock.
There first I saw her;
Dear is that valley to the murmuring bees;