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POEMS.

Attention seems concern'd for her relief;
Sure there's a secret eloquence in grief!
Transported could I lose my footsteps here;
Here meditation holds her proper sphere.
I wonder not, of old the wise aniPeood
Walk'd self-conversant in the sacred wood;
And truth's divine mysterious sources sought,
Where every object was a help to thought.

Nor want these happy shades a guardian pow'r,
When great Honoria ", at the even-tide hour,
A firmer Eve, amidst a safer grove,
Tastes the soft joy sequester'd here to rove,
While some attending seraph, virtue-taught,
Guards her retirement, and inspires her thought;
Shares in the pleasures of her pure retreat,
And sees one mortal here below complete.

But now descending from the pleasing scene, With easy steps the avenue 1 gain, Where, to the left, the brook its passage steals, And in its rocky bed its stream conceals; Now gently purling forms a soft cascade, Now glides involv'd beneath the happy shade; While on the bank, that guards the upper side, A sylvan wilderness displays its pride. Here the gay foliage sheds a vivid gleam, Reflected brightly from the solar beam; There, alter'd, does a darker face assume, And strikes us with a deep majestic gloom; Yet, c're six months their short-liv'd course have run, These charms shall vanish, and this bloom be gone! These trees, that now such lavish verdure boast, Shall naked stand, deform'd by winter's frost, Till spring returning dress the painted plain, And bid reviving nature smile again.

O thou, by virtue more than titles great, Whom Heav'n has bless'd with such a calm retreat, Mild Tweeddale, deign to hear the faithful Muse, Accept her homage, and approve her vows; Long may you firm Britannia's cause defend, And be in all extremes her steady friend I Long honour's paths with self-applause pursue, And keep the founders of your line in view"! Who, like the great dictator, left their plough, And taught in arms the stubborn Dane to bow; In the declining battle victors stood, And bought their country's safety with their blood. Here when the public cares allow you rest, The calm of philosophic leisure taste; Belov'd, esteem'd, admir'd, unenvy'd live! And boast a joy that fortune ne'er could give.

Now, lest the labour, Muse, appear too long, With Gilford end the long protracted song; Delightful village I bless'd with Nature's smile, Where golden plenty gilds the fruitful soil!

16 The late marchioness of Tweeddale who died at Edinburgh, 1736, universally lamented and esteemed.

"The first of the family of Hay were a good countryman and his two sons, who, when the Scots weie routed by the Danes at the battle of Loncarty, came in with their plough-shares, and by stopping the fugitives recovered the field, and defeated the enemy; for which they were rewarded with lands in Angus, ennobled by the king, and look the sirname of Hay. In relation to this accident, they bear for arms argent, three escutcheon gules. Of this name are the marquis of Tweeddale, and the earls of Errol and Kinnoule.

PART I. 579What green enclosures mark the flow'ry ground r
See yon fair hill, with tufts of planting crown'd,
Behind the mountain's azure top is seen,
And the eye loses all the vale between.
Close by the town the winding river glides,
And in its hollow channel sunk subsides;
Yet when the clouds descend in wint'ry rain,
The torrent overwhelms the subject plain;
Impetuous, drives along with rapid force,
And makes its power the limits of its course!

Thus has the Muse, but with too faint essay,
Thro' Nature's maze pursued her artless way;
Like the laborious bee, has urg'd her flight.
Where groves, where gardens, or where streams in-
Mas o'er creation stretch'd her artless wing, [vite;
And prais'd that power who gave her voice to sing.
Where godlike goodness spreads the bounteous feast,
Where each spectator is a constant guest;
Whose blessings all without distinction share,
Tread on his earth, and breathe his vital air;
Whose piercing eye thro' space immense extends,
On whose supporting hand the whole depends !—
From the unweildy whale's enormous mass,
To the small insect on the peopled grass,
Whate'er in air, and earth, and sea, I see.
All-comprehending pow'r!—is full of Thee!
Thy ways with ceaseless rapture I explore,
And lost in pleasure—gaze till I adore!

Yet, thus instructed, by thy providence, Tho' Nature, still profuse, her charms dispense, The storehouse of divine magnificence! Tho' all her works conspire our thoughts to raise To Thee, great object of all love and praise! How many, dead to this exalted joy. Cast o'er the whole an undelighted eye i Or, at the best, but cold spectators stand Unconscious of thy all-bestowing hand; Thy works, that set Thee in the strongest light, Serve, like a veil, to hide Thee from their sight; Like earth-born moles the ray divine they see, They taste not Nature,—for they know not Thee!

WRITTEN IN THB

ANCIENT PALACE OF FALKLAND,
Sirr. 1735.

Quod jam compositum violat mantis hospita bustum
Da veniam !—si quid sensus post fata relictum est.

Lucan.

"Deserted Falkland! when thy face I view,
It gives me grief—but gives me wonder too;Wonder1, the noble hand, that has thy trust,
Leaves thee to fal I a mouldering heap of dust!
To see the fine effects of James's tasteJ
A mass of ruin, beautifully waste!

1 It were to be wished those noble persons to whom the care of royal palaces, and other ancient buildings, both sacred and profane, belongs cithei by commission or right, would take some more care to preserve those venerable remains of anti quity, as entire as possible to posterity.

1 James V. the politest and most elegant prince of his time, repaired and beautified this palace, and built that of Linlithgow, which are both in a fine taste for that age, and both much superior to some celebrated pieces of modern architecture.

Grief, in thy ruin'd yet majestic state, To mark the picture of thy country's fate!"

Thus as I mus'd intent—and gaz'd around, Along the fractur'd walls with ivy bound! Where the worn bust display'd a dubious face, As if it mourn'd insulting time's disgrace; Faint from beneath a hollow murmur broke, Resembling human voice—and thus it spoke'.

"Inquire not, Stranger, time so fast devours, These faithless walls and sacrilegious tow'rs? Oh rather wonder they so long have stood, Stain'd with black parricide, and rais'd in blood! Here regal murder fix'd its deepest dye, A prince by famine lost!—that shade am I! From a fond father's tender arms betray'd, To linger here unpity'd, unsurvey'd! Nor think a stranger gave the deadly blow, A barbarous uncle bid me perish so! First to his power my heedless steps allur'd, Then in a dungeon's dismal depth immur'd. Think I the heir immediate to the crown, Brought np in elegance, and nurs'd in down; Who by too fond a parent's kindness bless'd, Could form a wish for nothing unpossess'd; While head-strong passion, deaf to reason's law, Pursued intensely every bliss it saw; Consum'd the shurt-liv'd day in new delight, In wasteful riot lengthen'd out the night; Think on the change—the sad reverse I found! Intomb'd alive, and shackled to the ground; Where then was minstrelsy? the voice of joy f The lavish banquet, and the wanton eye r The high respect by menial slaves bestow'd? The gay attendance? and deceitful crowd? All the wild luxury, my youth had known, Vanish'd at once—for ever, ever flown!

Nine days I struggled think the cruel strife!

The gnaw of anguish, and the waste of life!
No cup of water, and no crust of bread,
And the cold stone a pillow for my head!

The tenth unable longer to sustain •

The cruel smart, and strength-consuming pain,

To my devoted arm I turn'd for food,

And broke the vital channels of my blood!

But nature wasted now refus'd supply.

For life's exhausted fountains all were dry!

In clouds of dizziness, involv'd my sight,

Dim grew all objects, and confus'd the light!

In my dull ears a distant murmur rung,

The trembling accents falter'd on my tongue!

Wearied I sunk in death's embracing shade,

And mingled with that earth which now you tread."

Froze with the tale, I turn'd me quickly round, And left with hasty steps the fatal ground.

TO THE

AUTHOR OF UNIVERSAL BEAUTY.

A POEM.
Amicitia reddit honores

Sat, Heav'n-born Muse! for thence thy blameless
And melody divine, declare thee sprung! [tongue,
What sacred ardour taught thy wing to try
A flight unknown to our polluted eye r

» The person introduced speaking here is Robert prince of Scotland, eldest son to Robert III. and

Learn't thee to scorn the glitt'ring joys of Earth,
And kindle conscious of a nobler birth!
Whence catch'd thy glowing breast the hallow'd fire?
Or with such raptures swell'd thy charming lyre?
Sure Heav'n that'taw thy purpose sent the aid,
Some seraph to thy view the whole display'd;
With friendly hand ordain'd thy happy sights,
Thy colours blended, and dispos'd thy lights!
"From radiant Suns th' effulgent gilding drew,
White moons the silver gave, and air the blue!"
Celestial groves the lovely verdure shed.
And blushing morning lent the rosy red!
So gave, complete, thy beauteous works to shine,
And speak their great original divine!

Go on, chaste bard! protract the spotless pare,
And shame the scribblers of an idle age I
Low restless minds! whom vain ambition fires,
Or earth-born love inflames, or wine inspires!
Like meteors creeping near their native earth,
Whose faint duration speaks their humble birth I
Thy higher theme a surer praise secures,
"Famebetheirrecompence—but Heav'n be yours!"

Nature's attractions by thy pencil trae'd, Like Nature's self, shall ever-blooming last; The moral beauties of the mystic kind, The stronger, fair perfections of the mind! Next claim thy song;—nor thou the task refuse, Worthy the subject of thy purer Muse; r.nraptur'd on the charms of virtue dwell, And paint those joys you seem to know too well!

Thus, while with pleasing admiration led, Thy faultless lays enamour'd I survey'd! Prais'd, where I thought that real praise was due, Approv'd the work, nor yet its author knew; Now known;—no more I gaze on the design, But wonder that I did not guess it thine! I love thee so:—I dare not ev'n commend, Ev'n slight applause is flat fry in a friend; More proud of this than all the wreaths of fame, That you bestow'd—and I preserve the name!

TO MARCELLA.

-Tanto devinxit amore

Nos pudor, nos probitas, castique modestia vottm!

Locan.

Thou spotless fair! accept the faithful lay,
The thanks the fondly grateful Muse would pay;
Who void of adulation tries her wings,
And suits her numbers to the theme she sings;
Where all the strength of virtue gatherM lies.
And goodness like your own attracts the eyes!

Say, hcav'nly charm! whose magic fetters bind
In soft captivity the yielding mind!
Thou child of peace! refin'd ethereal flame,
Thou bright impression of th' eternal name!Benevolence! thou smile-creating joy, Life to the heart, and lustre to the eye!

Oh say! so little why thy influence known (

So few, who claim thy bounty as their own 1

brother to James L who was betrayed to this place, and most inhumanly starved to death by bi» nade Murdoc, duke of Albany, at the age of nineteen years; for which story see Buchanan. It is remarkable this prince bad been very wild, makes the contrast remarkably strong.

POEMS. PART I.

581

Say, why so much while pow'r or int'rest sway, The great are blind to thy superior ray?Why 'midst the pomp of courts thou sbun'st to

dwell?
Yet com'st unsent for to the shepherd's cell!
Or why when wealth neglected sets thee by,
Steal'st thou to fill my bosom with a sigh?
Who want the pow'r thy blessings to impart,
And grasp thy barren image in my heart;
From fortune's wants this sole instruction gain,
That virtue ev'n distress'd is happy pain I

Go, gentle guest! to fair Marcella' go,
Whose mind resenting feels ev'n distant woe;
Calm tho' the happy region lies within,
Her gentle bosom swells to take thee in!
There shed thy balm, from thence exert thy pow'r!
Not Heav'n itself can love thy presence more. Yet, pow'r propitious to mankind, beware,
Bid fortune wait thee to the noble fair!
Ample her own, her wishes think it small;
Her soul's fair sunshine would extend to all!
Rut such a fond petition would be vain,
Earth would be Paradise were she to reign!
Else might'st thou wound the tender seraph's rest,
And, blessing others, leave herself unbless'd!

So the bright lamp of night the constant Moon, Unwearied, does her circling journey run; Oft thro' the fleecy cloud irradiant bends, And to benighted lands her influence lends; Wide o'er the globe her genial lustre throws, And all the splendour she receives bestows!

TO AMANDA.

DEATH OF MRS. STUART OF CARDINESS,

AT EOlNBtltCII, AUGUST 29, 1732. ACED 13.

Quis desiderio sit pudor aut modus
Tarn cari capitis?

Hor.

Thou fair instructive pattern to thy kind,
That beauty lies not in the face but mind!
Thou gentle proof of virtue's sov'reign pow'r,
Lovely in age, and pleasing past threescore!
Farewel, since death our further wish denies,
And in kind slumbers seals thy placid eyes;
While Heav'n, assenting to thy own delight,
Recals thy spirit to the land of light!

Like one unhappy, who in slumber lay,
Thro' the fair course of some unclouded day;
Who, looking up surpriz'd, regrets to find,
How low the Sun's bright journey is declin'd:
So with a doubtful pleasure I survey'd
The cheerful saint in life's increasing shade;
And, from the calmness of her evening-hour,
I guess'd the temperate day had gone before:
So the wise Indian, from the ruddy gloom,
Likes the day pass'd — aud hails the morn to
come!

1 The honourable lady Mary Cunningham, daughter to the late earl of Eglintou.

Extremus perit tarn longi fructns amoris, Praecipitantque suos luctus,—neuterque recedens Snstinuit dixisse Vale! vitamque per omnem Nulla fuit tam moesta dies.

Lucan.

Like some fair turtle who, in sorrow mild.
Sees by rude hands her little nest despoil'd;
And 'midst the grove, abandon'd to distress,
Bemoans a wrong her fondness can't redress!
So while with equal justice you complain,
(Alike the injury,—alike the pain!)
While sadly pensive to yourself you mourn
Your tenderest blessings from your bosom torn ';
Permit the plantive Muse, illustrious fair!
To grieve a fate, which all must own severe:
For surely none, who boast a human heart,
Can hear your loss unconscious of a smart.

Oh why ye pow'rs, who grae'd Amanda's youth
With smiling innocence, and native truth;
Such as, in spite of malice, well might claim
The noblest titles, and the brightest fame;
You, who so tender form'd her lovely breast,
That ev'ry woe she saw, disturb'd her rest!
Why so unequal did ye fix her fate?
To crown her with the wretchedness of state!
In shining dignity her peace destroy,
And raise her fortune, to disturb her joy!

So fondly wept the Muse Amanda's care, So mourn'd, concem'd the visionary fair; Pictur'd her languid look, and thoughtful mien, That spoke the struggling passions held within! When quick the change—as fancy could sustain, Appear'd a native of the heavenly plain! And while the rapture thro' my senses ran, The cherub rosy-smil'd and thusbegan.

"Cease, anxious mortal! long inur'd to care,
'Tis Heav'n disposes, and 'tis man's to bear!
'Tis thine the salutary smart to know,
The secret value of instructive woe!
But if long prov'd thou yet remain untaught,
Perplex'd with scruples, and confus'd by thought;
If dubious thou behold'st Amanda's fate,
Or why such virtues such distress should wait?
From me submissive all the reason know,
And own that sov'reign justice rules below!

"As pictures plac'd too distant, or too near,
Or wildly glaring, or confus'd appear;
But, justly seated in their proper day,
Immediate sense and present life convey!
So fix'd in peaceful state, or private ease,
Amanda had but gain'd a vulgar praise;
Life's cloudless scene had seen her smiles alone,
And half her virtues had remain'd unknown!
But virtues, as Amanda's firm, require,
Like gold, the standard of afflictive fire!
'Tis then they struggle from the torture forth,
With native lustre, and acknowledg'd worth;
In blessings on delighted nations fall,
Their influence felt, their value own'd by all!

"Tho' harsh to thee appear Amanda's pain, Forbid by duty—honour—to complain!

1 This was occasioned by the misfortune of a lady of quality, who had her children forced from her in a very unhappy manner.

Yet from her suffering shall her glory rise,
And gain applause from all impartial eyes;
The hand, that triumphs in her present smart,
Shall wish it ne'er had wing'd the hostile dart;
Her lovely offspring, hurry'd from her sight,
Shall in captivity assert her right!
As late their infant-hands the mourner saw
Clasp her fond side—and half arraign the law;
So shall Heav'n right her injur'd excellence,
And arm her troubles in her just defence!

"And he the beauteous youth, who yet remains,
Source of her hope, and solace of her pains 1
Who with officious tenderness would please,
Whose hosom swells to give Amanda ease;
Shall by his future merit hoast a name,
From censure free, and unohscur'd hy fame;
Shall all his lovely mother's griefs atone,
And bless her with the honour of a son."

So ceas'd the angel!—thro' the void of day, Surpriz'd I saw his glitt'ring pinions play; While recollective, as my slumher hroke, I mark'd the pleasing presage he had spoke; Bless'd, could the Muse but make her wishes good, Accept her vows—she cannot what she wou'd!

TO AMANDA.

EPISTLE H.

Prodesse voluptas.

Orscur'n hy fortune,—and by anguish pain'd,
Long, fair Amanda! had the bard complain'd;
And blam'd those Muses, whose too fond address
Had meant him genins, hut denied success!
Long had he pin'd beneath neglected grief,
And, only not despairing, hop'd relief!
When Heav'n, which better than its creatures knows
Our real sufferings, or imagin'd woes;
That Heav'n that never yet receiv'd, unheard,
The prayer in hitterness of soul preferr'd!
Was pleas'd to touch your sympathizing ear,
And make a stranger's grief your gen'rous care!

To vulgar minds let wealth its charms unfold,
For vulgar minds alone are touch'd with gold!
To mine your soft inchanting lines i convey
A nobler sense, and strike a stronger way!
Like placid light, a gentle beam reveal,
Cheer as they warm, and strengthen as they heal!
Such words from kind descending angels flow,
When from their native skies they stoop helow
Commission'd to repair some fatal woe!
So kind they fly to stop the deadly hour,
And bring relief—when earth can do no more!

Thus with uncommon goodness you receive
A tribute—which I scarce presum'd to give!
Soften an anguish to the world unknown,
And make Heav'n's fairest al trihute your own!

Oh had the Muse the dear celestial art,
With tuneful sounds to sooth internal smart!
Oh were she favour'd by the sacred Nine,
To ease the sighing of a heart like thine!
Soon should thy hosom, cheerful as thy eyes,
From ev'ry secret weight deliver'd rise:
Amanda should the grateful deht receive,
And find it was not her's alone to give!

i A letter wrote to the author in answer to the first epistle.

To run HONOURABLE

THE LADY SUSANNA MONTGOMERY.

Rare est adeo concordia forms

Atque pudicitiae.

Juvea.

Vain are the weak allurements of the form, Unless the mental part its task perform;External beauty time and chance invade, The soul's superior graces never fade!But while, in your accomplish'd person join'd, We see with virtue ev'ry charm comhin'd;

By merit won, the subject heart oheys,

And by hereditary right you please!Well with your matchless mother may you share Her lasting pow'r, whose spotless name you hear,

As chaste your breast—your face almost as fair!

710 MR. HENRY TONGE,

STUDENT IN THE UNIVERSITY OF ELUS3LRCH.

Erat enim in seriis jocisque amicus omnium horarum.

Cicero.

Accept the verse no strains of flatt'ry swell,
That only artless aim thy worth to tell;
Pleasing the task, where friendship lends its flame,
To make thy merit the selected theme;
As difficult, too fondly to commend,
And yet preserve the sacred name of friend!
Yet, by affection taught forgive the muse,
If she, intent, the fair design pursues;
Speaks prepossess'd the language of her heart,
And tells what thou shalt be—from what thou
art.

With love of learning while thy hosom glows,
Refulgent youth its roseat charms bestows;
And in thy cheerful look appear design'd'
United health of hody and of mind!
Virtue and wit their mutual force employ,
One fills thy heart, one sparkles from thy eye!
One governs thy discourse, one gems thy thought.
And marks thy converse dear without a fault;
Politeness waits on reason for its guide,
And sov'reign sense disdains the aid of pride;
For science oft its weaker sons betrays,
And knowledge stiffens, over-starch'd with praise!

Well have you chosen the life-restoring art,
Which suits the native purpose of your heart!
Where soft humanity its pow'r extends,
And makes distress and misery its friends;
Where houndless fortune must defraud your wah,
Nor give your goodness—half the means of hliss

Not madly airy, nor morosely grave,
The fools surtout, and refuge of the knave;
Wise with the serious, cheerful with the gay,
You dress your mind congenial to the day;
Place every action in its softest light,
And speak, as if you still were in the right;
So painters still exert their strongest rare,
To place the master-figure strong and fair;
The rest with fainter colours are display'd,
And every foible sinks behind the shade!

POEMS. PART f.

583

Most happy he! to whom the Fates shall give, The bless'd associate of thy joys to live! To whom you shall the leisure-moment lend, With whom the cares of busy life unbend! With lively thought, exalted truth refine, And give new lustre to the genial wine j May Fortune, yielding to your science kind, Bestow her bounty equal to your mind. Shall groveling souls their useless treasures boast? In whom the sense of human-kind is lost! Shall titled slaves Heaven's rich elixir waste, To gratify a mean luxuriant taste? And shall just Heav'n deny the means to thee, To make its blessings like its bounty free! But if in vain the fond petitions aim, Still may your lovely temper last the same! Belov'd, unenvy'd, pass your happy days! Stamp ev'ry joy with bright intrinsic ease; Till fate turn out the destin'd hour assign'd, Till Heav'n reclaims you, and you leave behind A memory dear, and useful to mankind!

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While you with Atticus enjoy the praise, By all distinguish'd, ev'ry side to please; While parties join your merit to commend, And ev'ry honest man must be your friend: Forgive the Muse who would her homage pay, And to your view submit the faithful lay; Who, conscious of the joys you most approve, Seeks you, retir'd, within your fav'rite grove: On Esca's bank1, where, with melodious sound, The thrush responsive charms the shades around: Where, free from public cares, and city-noise, Your mind the sweets of solitude enjoys! Where pure and undisturb'd your blessings flow, As Heav'n seem'd pleas'd its favours to bestow; Blessings! in which so few can claim a part, A plenteous fortune with a temperate heart. Long pass delighted here your leisure-day, And let life's evening shed its placid ray; Lov'd by your friends, and to your country dear, Spend the fair remnant of the lengthen'd year; Health unimpair'd, and passions ever ev'n, On Earth the foretaste of approaching Heav'n! While nature's beauties still before you rise, Charm ev'ry sense, and feast your ravish'd eyes! Till by a change insensible you gain TV immortal joys that worthy deeds remain;

1 Mevis-bank, a beautiful villa belonging to that gentleman situated by the side of the river North-Esk, where the disposition of the house and gardens is in the most elegant and finished taste, answerable to the fine genius of the owner. VOL. XXV.

And with applause receive the radiant crown
That waits on public virtue,—like your own.

So far, my lord, the Muse had gone astray,
Nor thought to whom she sung her artless lay;
To thee, a master of the tuneful pen!
And equal judge of manners and of men;
In whom the sister-arts complete unite,
To form a taste accomplish'd and polite.

Accept the verse—that scorns the venal part, Nor yet has known to prostitute the art; Who ne'er to vice could slavish altars raise, Or learn'd to flatter, where she blush'd to praise; Whose numbers careless, like herself, and free, Express her thoughts, and with her heart agree; Her strength unequal to the task she knows, 111 suits her voice to sing, oppress'd with woes; Let others touch the lyre from trouble free, (That happy lot was once allow'd to me!) But when the breast is torn with varied pain, Wild must the measures be, and rude the strain; Your candour only can her faults excuse, Your guardian smile alone protect the Muse; For worth like your's, with native lustre bright, Can gild obscurest objects with its light!

TO THE SAME,

WITH NATURE, A POEM.
EPISTLE II. Principibus placuisse viris non ultima laus est.

Patron of learning! and the Muse's friendl
To thee, accomplish'd Clerk, these lines I send,
Which by thy much-lov'd Esca's flow'ry side,
With faint essay, the rural Muse has try'd;
And, ravish'd with the various charms she saw,
Has sketch 'd a landscape abler hands shou'd draw.

Let others, strangers to all foreign worth,
Curse the cold climate, and the frozen north!
Say, that the barren land no prospect yields,
But naked mountains, and unshelter'd fields;
Nature is blameless,—she has done her part,
And only wants the sister-aids of art;
Bless'd with such all-improving hands as thine,
Soon would her face with new advantage shine!
Ev'n rocks should bloom beneath the studious arm,
And every blemish soften to a charm!

Would'st thou indulge the Muse's fond request, Thy Country Seat1 in all its beauties drest, Fair as its model, just as its design, To future ages should distinguish'd shine; Kais'd by thy pen, shou'd northern Wansteads rise, Or future Chatsworths strike the ravish'd eyes!Till Scotia should as lovely villas boast, As grace fair Thames's shore, or bless Hesperia's coast!As once of old, at great Amphion's call, To magic numbers rose the Theban wall!The same effect thy noble strains should yield, And verse again resume the pow'r to build.

1 An ingenious poem of that gentleman's, entitled the Country Seat, never published. Qq

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