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At my window sit, and sce
Autumn his russet fingers lay
On ev'ry leaf of ev'ry tree;
I call, but Summer will not stay.
She flies, the boasting goddess flies,
And pointing where th' espaliers shoot,
Deserve my parting gift, she cries,
I take the leaves, but not the fruit.
Let me the parting gift improve,
And emulate the just reply,
As life's short seasons swift remove,
Ere fixt in Winter's frost I he.
Health, beauty, vigour, now decline,
The pride of Summer's splendid day, Leaves which the stem must soon resign, The mournful prelude of decay.
But let fair virtue's fruit remain,
Though Summer with my leaves be fled,
Then, not despis'd, I'll not complain,
But cherish Autumn in her stead.
A RECEIPT FOR MARRIED LADIES.
TAKE of beauty and wit what you happen to have,
Each as pure and as simple as nature first gave;
Mix them up with discretion, and, stirring them well,
Add good humour two handsful, for taste and for smell;
Throw in plenty of smiles, but of frowns very few,
For they injure each other, as contraries do;
If the good-man's within, sit and chat by his side,
your silence be constru'd for sourness or pride;
But if ruffled abroad, in a pet he comes home,
To keep up decorum, your cue must be mum;
Let your reas'ning be soft, if you mean to reform,
Reproaches won't mend, but will kindle a storm;
With a smile bid him welcome, and part with a sigh;
It will make him love home, and add to your joy;
Let his friends be treated and receiv'd with respect,
Lest he thinks himself glanc'd at by such a neglect;
To these you may add what affection you please,
But little of fondness, for of love 'tis the lees.
Let your inclination recede to his will,
And of all things avoid the genteel dishabille;
Work this well together in the manner of paste,
Candy'd o'er with good sense, and I warrant 'twill last.
OLD Care, with industry and art,
At length so well had play'd his part,
He heap'd up such an ample store,
That av'rice could not sigh for more:
Ten thousand flocks his shepherd told,
His coffers overflow'd with gold:
The land all round him was his own,
With corn his crouded gran'ries groan:
In short, so vast his charge and gain,
That to possess them was a pain :
With happiness oppress'd he lies,
And much too prudent to be wise.
Near him there liv'd a beauteous maid,
With all the charms of youth array'd;
Good, amiable, sincere, and free;
Her name was Generosity.
'Twas her's the largess to bestow
On rich and poor, on friend and foe
Her doors to all were open'd wide,
The pilgrim there might safe abide:
For th' hungry and the thirsty crew,
The bread she broke, the drink she drew;
There sickness laid her aching head,
And there distress could find a bed-
Each hour she with a bounteous hand
Diffus'd her blessings round the land:
Her gifts and glory lasted long, And num'rous was th' accepting throng. At length pale Pen'ry seiz'd the dame, And fortune fled, and ruin came; She found her riches at an end, And that she had not made one friend.All blam'd her for not giving more, Nor thought on what she'd done before. She wept, she rav'd, she tore her hair; When lo! to comfort her, came CareAnd cry'd, "my dear, if you will join Your hand in nuptial bonds with mine, All will be well-you shall have store, And I be plagu'd with wealth no more,Tho' I restrain your bounteous heart, You still shall act the gen'rous part."The bridal came-great was the feast, And good the pudding and the priest. The bride in nine months brought him forth A little maid, of matchless worth : Her face was mix'd of care and glee, They christen'd her Economy; And stil'd her face discretion's queen, The mistress of the golden mien. Now Generosity confin'd,
Is perfect easy in her mind;
She loves to give, yet knows to spare,
Nor wishes to be free from Care.
Addressed to the Honourable Miss
quence of her being offended at the author's saluting her at a friends table after supper.
WHEN pleasure dances in the sparkling eye,
And the gay moments innocently fly;
While social intercourse unbends the heart,
And nature speaks without the veil of art;
If strongly tempted by this scene of bliss,
Th' unguarded mortal dares to snatch a kiss!
Though rigid custom should the deed disown,
And nature claim it for her act alone,
The gen'rous bosom may th' offence forgive,
Disarm the frown, and bid th' offender live.
Yet while contrition marks your suppliant's pray'r,
Who honours prudence in the youthful fair;
May no cold maxims ever disapprove
The kiss of friendship! or the sigh of love!
W. T. Fitzgerald, Esq.