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"I faw, the pride of all the meadow,

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"Bloom'd in the filver waves below;

By noon-tide's heat its youth was wasted, "The waters, as they pass'd, complain'd : "At eve its glories all were blasted,

"And not one former tint remain'd.

"Nor let vain wit's deceitful glory

Lead you from wisdom's path astray; "What genius lives renown'd in story "To happiness who found the way?

"In yonder mead behold that vapor
"Whofe vivid beams illufive play,
"Far off it feems a friendly taper
"To guide the traveller on his

way;

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But fhould fome hapless wretch pursuing "Tread where the treach'rous meteors glow, 70 "He'd find, too late his rafhnefs rueing, "That fatal quickfands lurk below.

"In life fuch bubbles nought admiring,
"Gilt with falfe light and fill'd with air,
"Do you, from pageant crowds retiring,
To peace in virtue's cot repair;
TOL. II.
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"There feek the never-wafted treasure,
"Which mutual love and friendship give,
"Domestic comfort, fpotlefs pleasure,

"And blefs'd and bleffing you will live.

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"If heav'n with children crowns your dwelling,

"As mine its bounty does with you,

"In fondness fatherly excelling

"Th' example you have felt pursue."

He paus'd-for tenderly careffing
The darling of his wounded heart,
Looks had means only of expreffing
Thoughts language never could impart.

Now Night her mournful mantle spreading,
Had rob'd with black th' horizon round,
And dank dews from her treffes fhedding
With genial moisture bath'd the ground;

When back to city follies flying,

'Midst custom's flaves he liv'd refign'd, His face, array'd in smiles, denying

The true complexion of his mind;

For feriously around furveying

Each character, in youth and age,
Of fools betray'd, and knaves betraying,
That play'd upon this human stage,

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(Peaceful himself and undefigning)

He loath'd the scenes of guile and strife, And felt each fecret with inclining

To leave this fretful farce of life.

Yet to whate'er above was fated

Obediently he bow'd his foul,

For what all bounteous heav'n created,
He thought heav'n only fhould controul.

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THE LAWYER'S FAREWELL TO HIS

MUSE.

WRITTEN IN THE YEAR 1744.

BY SIR WILLIAM BLACKSTONE, KT.

ONE OF THE JUDGES OF THE COMMON PLEAS.

As, by fome tyrant's stern command,

A wretch forfakes his native land,
In foreign climes condemn'd to roam
An endless exile from his home;
Penfive he treads the deftin'd way,
And dreads to go, nor dares to stay ;
'Till on fome neighb'ring mountain's brow
He ftops, and turns his eyes below;
There, melting at the well-known view,
Drops a laft tear, and bids adieu :
So I, thus doom'd from thee to part,
Gay queen of Fancy and of Art,
Reluctant move, with doubtful mind,
Oft stop, and often look behind.
Companion of my tender age,
Serenely gay, and sweetly fage,
How blithsome were we wont to rove

By verdant hill, or fhady grove,

* Born 1723; dyed 1780.

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Where fervent bees, with humming voice,
Around the honey'd oak rejoice,
And aged elms with aweful bend
In long cathedral walks extend!
Lull'd by the lapfe of gliding floods,

Chear'd by the warbling of the woods,
How bleft my days, my thoughts how free,
In sweet society with thee!

Then all was joyous, all was young,

And years unheeded roll'd along;

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But now the pleafing dream is o'er,

Thefe fcenes must charm me now no more.

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Loft to the field, and torn from you,

Farewel!-a long, a last adieu.

Me wrangling courts, and stubborn Law,
To fmoak and crowds, and cities draw;
There selfish Faction rules the day,
And Pride and Av'rice throng the way:
Diseases taint the murky air,

And midnight conflagrations glare ;
Loose Revelry and Riot bold

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In frighted streets their orgies hold;
Or, when in filence all is drown'd,
Fell Murder walks her lonely round;
No room for peace, no room for you,
Adieu, celeftial Nymph, adieu!

Shakespear no more, thy fylvan fon,
Nor all the art of Addison,

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