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[From the Morning Poft.]
SWEET guardian of the rofy cheek!

Whene'er to thee I raise my hands,
Upon the inourtain's breezy peak,

Or on the yellow murm'ring fands;
If thou haft deign'd, by pity mov'd,

This fev'rilh phantom to prolong,
I've touch'd my lute for ever lov'd,

And bless'd thee with its earliest song.
And oh ! if in thy gentle ear

Its fimple notes have founded sweet,
May the soft breeze to thee so dear,

Now bear them to'thy fragrant seat ;
For thou hast dried the dew of grief,

And friendship feels new ecstacy ;
To Pollio thou haft stretch'd relief,

And raising him, haft cherith'd me.
So while some treasur'd plant receives

Th' admiring florist's partial shower,
· The drops that tremble from its leaves,

Oft feed some near, uncul:ur'd fuwer :
For late 'connubial fondness hung

Mute o'er the couch where Pollio lay,
Love, hope, and sorrow tix'd her tongue,

Passions which oft have felt its sway.
And Nature, in thofe anxious hours,

Resolv'd that from her eyes should flow
The tears fa often forc'd from ours,

By all her powers of mimic woe* :
There too, by drooping Pollio's side,

Stood Modesty, a mourner meek,
While Genius, mov'd by grief and pride,

Increas'd the blush which grac'd her cheek :

* Alluding to the great dramatic talents of Mrs. Litchfield.


For much the maiden he' reprov'd,

For having spread her veil of snow
Upon the mind he form’d and lov'd,

Till she was seen to mourn it too :-
O Health! when thou art fed, how vain

The witchery of earth and kies,
Love's glance or music's sweçteft strain,

Or ocean's softeft lullabies !
Oh! ever hover near his bower,

There let thy fav'rite sylphs repair,
Fence it with every sweet-lip'd flower,

That Gickness find no cntrance there's
So shall his lyre, untouch'd so long,

The tone, with which it charm’d, regain ;
Sweet spirit! thou shalt teach his song,
With mine, to breathe the grateful Itrain.

J. Carr.


[From the Suffex Chroniclc.]
RIMFUL of anger-not of love,

The champion sends his foc one glove ;
But I that have a double thare
Of tender paftivn-send a pair.
Nor think it, deareft Celia, cruel
That I invite you to a duel:
Ready to meet you face to face,
At any time, in any place:
Nor will I leave you in the lurch,
Though you Mould dare to name the church!
There come equipp'd with all your charms,
The ring and license are my arms:
With these I mean my power to try,
And meet my charmer--though I die!



[From the Morning Herald.]
Y the arch dimple playing on your cheek,

And tempting fyren voice whene'er you speak;:
By the bright luftre of your sparkling eyes,
Whose glance fo well thc want of words supplies ;
By each loose ringlet of your nut-brown hair,
That wanton (trays, and shades your bosom fair ;
By those dear lips, the treasures of delight,
That oft a lover's facrilege invite;
By that white bosom as it stands confest,
And gently heaving to be closely preft ;
By those bewitching smiles and kisses sweet,
When two food hearts in soft embraces meet;
By more than dare be nam'd, I claim thee mine,
My lovely mistress, and my Valentine.


Feb. 14.


[From the fame.]
YOUR method of wooing a nymph fo divine,

To be sure, my good Sir, was a coarse oue ;
And while you set up to be “Sweet Valentine,"
You were more like his mad brother Orson.



[From the Bridth Press.]
A RABBIT who had all bis life been pent

Within a hutch, ai length grew discontent,
And having nothing else to do,
Amus'd himself in meditation
On a poor rabbit's luckless fituation,

Compar'd with other animals he knew.

* Alas!"

Alas !” he cried, “how many ills I bear,
And what a happy dog is yonder Hare !
He roves through wood or field, contented, free;

He has no cares or troubles, none at all;
He can see life, enjoy fociety,

And when he pleases give his friends a call, For food no human tyrant's aid he needs,

But as through gardens in and out he pops,
On what best suits his tafte he freely feeds

On cabbage now, and now on turnip-tops.
Whilft I, with these infernal bars beset,
Must be content with any thing I get.

Yet why should I
Thus tamely bear the loss of liberty,
Whom nature made as proper to be free

As he:
It surely never was by nature meant

That l in this vile prison should be cramm'd : I'll not endure it ; no, if I consent

To bear it any longer I'll be dm-d.
But how shall I escape my keeper's clutch :
I have it when he opens next my hutch,
Instead of tamely fitting like a dolt,
I'll Nily make a spring and out I'll bolt,”

The opportunity occurr’d,

And Bunny really kept his word, And now, from all restraint set free, He frisk'd about with wondrous glee,

Till with his exercise he hungry grew;
Then food he fought, and found enough,
But found it very forry stuff

To what he 'd been accustom'd to.
To grumble now, however, 't was too late,

So quietly he ate.-
Just fo the rake in holy fable,
Who us'd in style to fit at table,
And on all sorts of dainties dine,

Till he turn'd wicked finner,
And then was forc'd to n.ess with filthy swine,

Or go, as he deserv'd, without his dinner.

At last he met the envied Hare;

And, vaunting, told the whole affair
Of his escape, no doubt expecting praise,
And begg'd to know how best to spend his days;

Requesting too his kind advice,
If he again should stand in need of food,

As 't was moft probable he should,
Where he might get a bit of something nice.
Puss fhook his head: “ The scheme you'll rue,"
Says he,“ or I am much mistaken,
Of having a good lonie forsaken,
To try a life of which you nothing knew.
How could you such a thing design?

You foolish fellow ! how imagine

That you were suited to engage in
A state fo arduous as mine?
“ A thousand terrors, guns, hounds, snares,

Against us Hares,
Are hy the human race employ'd,
Which you ne'er learnt the cunning to avoid.
“ Besides, you are not to be told,
It foon will grow confounded cold,
And you can ne'er your tender hide exposé

To frost and lows.
Upon my soul, I fear you 'll feel it much;

most be uuseason'd to the biast,
You who have all your winters pass'd
Within a nice warm comfortable hurch.
“ Then, while you may, my counsel take,
And to your keeper straight go back,
His pardon humbly to implore,
And tell him you I do fo
He scarce had ended, when the sudden cry

Of a loud velping pack
Approaching briskly at his back
Oblig'd hiin hastily to fly.
Puss doubtless tipt them all the double,
Or gave at least the curs some trouble ;
But, finding such an easy prey,
They snapt up Bunny in their way.

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