Beauty, like other powers, maintains So when on earth the god of day Through convex orbs the beams transmit, The beams that gently warm'd before, Collected, gently warm no more, But glow with more prevailing heat. A SONG. On the green margin of the brook Am I less lovely then? (she cries, My faded cheek, my colour fled: These eyes no more like lightning pierced, These cheeks grew pale, when Damon first His Phillida betray'd. The rose he in his bosom wore, How oft upon my breast was seen! And when I kiss'd the drooping flower, Behold, he cried, it blooms again! The wreaths that bound my braided hair, While thus sad Phyllida lamented, But Damon first the cheat begun. Then sigh'd and blush'd, as who should say Ah! Thyrsis, I am won. UPON A VENERABLE RIVAL. FULL thirty frosts since thou wert young Ye Sages! spite of your pretences Not that I deem it weak to love, But ah! the pangs we lovers prove Unheeded on the youthful brow But unsupported Age stoops low For once, then, if untutor'd youth, For once attempt not to despise Who early loves, though young, is wise,- ON THE PICTURE OF A SLEEPING CHILD. FROM THE LATIN OF VINCENT BOURNE. SWEET babe, whose image here express'd Does thy peaceful slumbers show; Guilt or fear, to break thy rest, Such as innocence bestows, Harmless infant, lull thee still! MORTALS! around your destined heads Thick fly the shafts of Death, A thousand toils beneath. In vain we trifle with our fate, At best we but prolong the date, Fondly we think all danger fled, Thus the wreck'd mariner may strive Secure of life, if he survive But there, to famine doom'd a prey, Since then in vain we strive to guard Our frailty from the foe, To meet the fatal blow! AN EPISTLE TO ROBERT LLOYD, ESQ. 1754. 'Tis not that I design to rob Thee of thy birthright, gentle Bob,- When God and you know, I have neither; Or such, as might be better shown "Tis not with either of these views, That I presume to address the Muse: (Sworn foes to every thing that's witty,) The debt which justly became due you: And you might grumble, crony mine, If paid in any other coin; Since twenty sheets of lead, God knows, I fairly find myself pitch-kettled1; First, for a thought—since all agree A thought I have it-let me see— 1 Pitch-kettled, a favourite phrase at the time when this Epistle was written, expressive of being puzzled, or what in the Spectator's time would have been called bamboozled. HAYLEY. |