Ye who for health, for exercise, for air, Oft saunter from Edina's smoke-capt spires, And, by the grassy hill or dimpl'd brook, An appetite revive, should oft-times stray O'er Arthur's-seat's green pastures, to the

town

For sheep-heads and bone-bridges fam'd of yore,

That in our country's annals stands yclept
Fair Duddingstonia, where you may be blest
With simple fare and vegetable sweets,
Freed from the clamours of the busy world.
Or, if for recreation you should stray

To Leithian shore, and breathe the keener air
Wafted from Neptune's empire of the main;
If appetite invite, and cash prevail,

Ply not your joints upon the homeward track,
Till LAWSON, chiefest of the Scottish hosts!
To nimble-footed waiters give command
The cloth to lay.-Instinctively they come,
And lo! the table, wrapt in cloudy steams,
Groans with the weight of the transporting fare
That breathes frankincense on the guests
around.

Now, while stern Winter holds his frigid
sway,

And to a period spins the closing year;
While festivals abound, and sportive hours

Kill the remembrance of our weaning time,
Let not Intemperance, destructive fiend!
Gain entrance to your halls.-Despoil'd by
him,

Shall cloyed appetite, forerunner sad

Of rank disease, invet'rate clasp your frame. Contentment shall no more be known to spread Her cherub wings round thy once happy dwelling,

But misery of thought, and racking pain,

Shall plunge you headlong to the dark abyss.

TEA. A Poem.

YE maidens modest! on whose sullen brows
Hath weaning Chastity her wrinkles cull'd,
Who constant labour o'er consumptive oil,
At midnight knell, to wash sleep's nightly balm
From closing eye-lids, with the grateful drops
Of TEA's blest juices; list th' obsequious lays
That come not with Parnassian honours
crown'd,

To dwell in murmurs o'er your sleepy sense;
But fresh from Orient blown to chace far off
Your lethargy, that dormant needles rous'd
May pierce the waving Mantua's silken folds:
For many a dame in chamber sadly pent,
Hath this reviving limpid call'd to life;
And well it did, to mitigate the frowns
Of anger reddening on Lucinda's brow,
With flash malignant, that had harbour'd there,
If she at masquerade, or play, or ball,
Appear'd not in her newest, best attire.
But VENUS, goddess of th' eternal smile,
Knowing that stormy brows but ill become
Fair patterns of her beauty, hath ordain'd

Celestial Tea!-A fountain that can cure
The ills of passion, and can free the fair
From frowns and sighs, by Disappointment
earn'd.

To her, ye fair, in adoration bow! Whether at blushing morn, or dewy eve; Her smoaking cordials greet your fragrant board,

With Shushong, Congo, or

crown'd.

coarse Bohea

At midnight skies, ye Mantua-makers, hail
The sacred offering!-For the haughty Belles
No longer upbraid your ling'ring hands
With trains upborn aloft by dusky gales
That sweep the ball-room-swift they glide
along,

And, with their sailing streamers, catch the eye
Of some Adonis, mark'd to love a prey,
Whose bosom ne'er had panted with a sigh,
But for the silken drap'ries that inclose
Graces which nature has by Art conceal'd.
Mark well the fair! observe their modest
eye,

With all the innocence of beauty blest.

Could Slander o'er that tongue its pow'r retain Whose breath is music? Ah, fallacious thought! The surface is Ambrosia's mingl'd sweets; But all below is death. At tea-board met,

Attend their prattling tongues-they scoffthey rail

Unbounded; but their darts are chiefly aim'd At some gay Fair, whose beauties far eclipse Her dim beholders--who, with haggard eyes, Would blight those charms where raptures long have dwelt

In extacy, delighted and suffic'd.

In vain hath Beauty, with her varied robe, Bestow'd her glowing blushes o'er her cheeks, And call'd attendant Graces to her aid, To blend the scarlet and the lilly fair. In vain did Venus in her fav'rite mould Adapt the slender form to Cupid's choiceWhen slender comes, her blasts too fatal prove; Pale are those cheeks where youth and beauty glow'd,

Where smiles, where freshness, and where roses grew:

Ghastly and wan their Gorgon picture comes,
With ev'ry Fury grinning from the looks
Of frightful monster-Envy's hissing tongue,
With deepest vengeance wounds, and ev'ry
wound

With deeper canker, deeper poison teems.

O GOLD! thy luring lustre first prevail'd On MAN to tempt the fretful winds and waves, And hunt new fancies. Still thy glaring form