'Tis

'Tis yours, I know, to grant the sacred lyre ;
yours, I know, to light the hallow'd fire.
Lord of the Muses, you command the Nine,
All worship regulate at ev'ry shrine.

'Tis well-your just, your sacred reign's begun;
Punish presumptuous rebels, spare not one.
Man, lordly Man, to ev'ry tuneful Maid
Gives freely or withholds th' inspiring aid.
Thanks that you let e'en two make me their care;
You tell whom they must love, and who must share
Their smiles and favours, and their fame bestow :
Well may your breast with regal triumph glow.
You say who merits, who must wear the bays;
Your word is law, unquestion'd is your praise;
Not mighty Bluebeard could such awe inspire.
No more! I here renounce my baffled lyre.

This produced

A THIRD PARODY.

WHAT! bid a Woman Fame's fair wreath divide?
Women, like kings, seek empire far and wide;
King-like, would triumph if they touch the lyre:
The Swede ne'er glow'd with more unconquer'd fire.—
But I usurp.-Had Cromwell woo'd the Nine,

No rival he had suffer'd at their shrine.

Were those who abdicate, since time begun,

Respected or content?

No-scarcely one ↑.

Music and Poetry.

Richard Cromwell an exception.

You

You help'd to crown this all-despotic Maid:
Oh, second Warwick *! wherefore lend your aid?
Of all usurpers 't is the constant care

To keep the diadem, and not to share.

Edward could wear what Warwick could bestow.-
Remember Barnet !-do not proudly glow.
Usurpers oft are favour'd with the bays,
And Merit often misses well-earn'd praise.
Pretenders, tyrants all, my breast inspire;
Though I usurp, I will contest the lyre.

These effusions were followed by others, in which the fair Writer displayed at once her gaiety of heart and imagination. The GLEANER continued his remonstrance, and contended the wreath might be divided without rivalry. She then, to use her own words, schooled herself in yet another Parody for her former Parodies.

The GLEANER is supposed to answer the said presumptuous Parody in the following manner :

INSOLENT Woman! cease thy saucy lays,

"Lest thou receive the nettle for the bays:

"Think not thy Pegasus can mount to Fame,—

"Down, down, proud heart, nor dare the wreath to

"claim.

"All bards, who o'er Parnassus' heights can fly, "Shall thy presumption scorn, thy claim deny ; "Exclusive praise !—Thou vain, thou would-be Muse, "Gain homage, ere that homage you refuse."

* Neville Earl of Warwick, the King-maker, was killed at the battle of Barnet.

IMPROMPTUS

BY

A LADY.

ADVERTISEMENT.

THE Author of these sprightly Effusions is the Lady referred to in the Lines of the Fair Invisible, as worthy to share the Wreath conferred alike by her musical and poetical Talents. I am indebted to her, likewise, for a pathetic Tribute to the Memory of a beloved Sister, which will be found in the Republications.

CUPID DEFIED.

WHY waste thy arrows, wanton Boy,
On one thou never canst annoy ?
My blissful freedom I'll maintain;
Then spend thy quiver not in vain.

Thy subtle arts, sly God, I brave;
Hope not to find in me a slave ;
Reason assists to blunt thy dart,
And shields secure my youthful heart.

LOVE VICTORIOUS.

SAY, lovely Delia, cruel maid,

Ah! why, beguiled in Friendship's name,
Thou hast my heart a captive made,
And bound me fast in Cupid's chain?

Then, sweet offender, mayst thou prove
Enthrall'd like me in Cupid's snare ;—
Repay thy victim love for love,
And thus the tender crime repair.