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“Where once I went to church, I'll now go twice-
Behold Sir Balaam, now a man of spirit,
A nymple of quality admires our Knight,
He must repair it; takes a bribe from France;
The Court forsake him, and Sir Balaam hangs.
EDWIN AND EMMA
Fast by a Melt'ring wood,
A humble cottage stood.
Beneath a mother's eye,
To see her bleft, and die.
The foftest blash that Nature fpreads,
Gave colour to her cheek;
When May's sweet mornings break.
Nor let the pride of great ones fcorn
The charmer of the plains ;
To deck our lily deigns.
Long had the fir'd each youth with love,
Each maiden with defpair ; And tho'by all a wonder own'd,
Yet knew not the was fair.
Till Edwin came, the pride of swains,
A soul that knew no art,
Shone forth the feeling heart.
A mutual flame was quickly caught,
Was quickly too reveal’d;
Which Virtue keeps conceal’d.
What happy hours of heart-felt bliss
Did love on both bestow !
Where Fortune proves a foe.
His fifter, who like Envy form’d,
Like her in mischief joy'd,
Each darker art employ’d.
To snatch a glance, to mark the spot
Where EMMA walk'd and wept.
Oft too in Stanemore's wint’ry waste,
Beneath the moonlight shade, In sighs to pour his soften’d foul.
The midnight mourner stray'd.
His cheeks, where love with beauty glow'd,
A deadly pale o'ercaft;
Before the northern blast.
The parents now, with late remorse,
Hung o'er his dying bed, And weary'd Heav'n with fruitless pray’rs,
And fruitless forrows shed,
'Tis past, he cry'd, but if your souls
Sweet mercy yet can move,
What they must ever love.
She came; his cold hand softly touch'd,
And bath'd with many a tear; First falling o'er the primrose pale
So morning dews appear.
But oh! his sister's jealous care,
(A cruel filter she !) Forbad what Emma came to say, My Edwin ! live for me.
Now homeward as the hopeless went,
The churchyard path along,
Her lover's fun'ral song.
Amid the falling gloom of night,
Her startling fancy found
groan in ev'ry sound.
Alone, appall’d, thus had she pass’d
The visi’nary vale,
Sad sounding in the gale.
Just then she reach'd with trembling steps,
Her aged mother's door!
That angel face no more!
I feel, I feel this breaking heart
Beat high against my fide :
She shiver'd, fighed, and died !
CELADON AND AMELIA.
IS liftning fear, and dumb amazement all :