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THE WINTER NOSEGAY.

I.

WHAT nature, alas! has denied
To the delicate growth of our isle,
Art has in a measure supplied,

And winter is deck'd with a finile.
See, Mary, what beauties I bring
From the fhelter of that funny fhed,
Where the flow'rs have the charms of the fpring,
Though abroad they are frozen and dead.

II.

'Tis a bow'r of Arcadian fweets, Where Flora is ftill in her prime, A fortrefs to which the retreats,

From the cruel affaults of the clime. While earth wears a mantle of fnow,

These pinks are as fresh and as gay, As the fairest and sweetest that blow On the beautiful bofom of May.

III.:

See how they have fafely furviv❜d

The frowns of a fky fo fevere, Such Mary's true love that has liv'd

Through many a turbulent year.

The

The charms of the late blowing rofe,
Seem grac'd with a livelier hue,
And the winter of forrow beft shows
The truth of a friend, fuch as you..

MUTUAL FORBEARANCE.

Neceffary to the Happiness of the Married State

THE lady thus addrefs'd her spouse-
What a mere dungeon is this houfe,
By no means large enough, and was it,
Yet this dull room and that dark closet,
Those hangings with their worn-out graces,
Long beards, long noses, and pale faces,
Are fuch an antiquated foene,

They overwhelin me with the fpleen.
-Sir Humphry fhooting in the dark,
Makes answer quite befide the mark:
No doubt, my dear, I bade him come,
Engag'd myself to be at home,

And fhall expect him at the door
Precifely when the clock ftrikes four

You

You are fo deaf the lady cried,

(And rais'd her voice and frown'd befide)
You are fo deadly deaf, my dear,

What fhall I do to make you hear?
Difmifs poor Harry, he replies,
Some people are more nice than wife,
For one flight trefpafs all this ftir?
What if he did ride, whip and spur,
'Twas but a mile-your fav'rite horse
Will never look one hair the worse.
Well, I protest 'tis past all bearing-
Child! I am rather hard of hearing.-
Yes, truly-one muft fcream and bawl,
I tell you you can't hear at all.
Then with a voice exceeding low,
No matter if you hear or no.

Alas! and is domestic ftrife,

That foreft ill of human life,
A plague fo little to be fear'd,
As to be wantonly occurr'd;
To gratify a fretful paffes,
On ev'ry trivial provocation?
The kindest and the happiest pair,
Will find occafion to forbear,
And fomething ev'ry day they live
To pity, and perhaps, forgive.

But

But if, infirmities that fall

In common to the lot of all,
A blemish or a fenfe impair'd,
Are crimes fo little to be fpar'd,
Then farewell all that must create
The comfort of the wedded state,
Inftead of harmony, 'tis jar

And tumult, and inteftine war.

The love that cheers life's latest fage,
Proof against fickness and old age,
Preferv'd by virtue from declenfion,
Becomes not weary of attention,
But lives, when that exterior grace:
Which firft infpir'd the flame, decays.
'Tis gentle, delicate and kind,
To faults compaffionate or blind,
And will with fympathy endure:
Those evils it would gladly cure.
But angry, coarse, and harsh expreffion,
Shows love to be a mere profeffion,
Proves that the heart is one of his,
Or foon expels him if it is.

TO

TO THE REV. MR. NE W TO N.

An Invitation into the Country.

I.

THE swallows in their torpid state,

Compose their useless wing,

And bees in hives as idly wait
The call of early spring.

、 II.

The keeneft froft that binds the stream,
The wildeft wind that blows,
Are neither felt nor fear'd by them,
Secure of their repose.

III.

But man, all feeling and awake,

The gloomy scene surveys,
With prefent ills his heart must ach,
And pant for brighter days.

IV.

Old winter halting o'er the mead,

Bids me and Mary mourn,

But lovely fpring peeps o'er his head,

And whifpers your return.

V. Then

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