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TO A LADY.

FROM THE FRENCH OF DESPORTES,

Curl those auburn locks with care,
That shade thy forehead smooth and fair ;
With humble glance my glances seek;
In tones of magic sweetness speak;
Breathe full oft deceitful sighs;
Raise to heaven thine azure eyes ;
Weep, and exhaust thy power to feign;
Thy wiles and hopes will all be yain
Never more, to thee returning,
Shall my heart with love be burning!
So many groans of sad lament,
So many days in anguish spent,
So many nights of sleepless woe,
Thy fatal beauty made me know,
That ne'er again thy spells shall blind me,
Ne'er again thy fetters bind me:
For I, at length, have learn’d to borrow.
Wisdom from my former sorrow!

wretched he! yhose captive soul
Owns a faithless fair's controul;
And, while she mocks his fond believing,
Trusts her words and oaths deceiving!

Then cease, thou false one, cease to strive
My buried passion to revive!
If ever thy seductive art
To bondage lure again my heart,
Let the hard destiny be mine,
Unpitied and unheard to pine:
For he who twice to folly swerves,
No pardon for his fault deserves.

R. A. D.

MADRIGAL.

FROM TÌE FRENCH OF LA SABLIERE.

So much I press'd, so much I pray'd,

From Laura's lips I gain'd a kiss,
But swift as lightning through the shade,

So swiftly fled my bliss.
O Love! thou hast not done me right!

Had Justice in thy mind a place,
Thou hadst not destin'd my delight

To live so brief a space.

As long a time as I had press'd

To gain the dear delicious treasure,
So long, O Love! to make me blest,
Should I have felt the pleasure.

h. 4. D.

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A RURAL CORONATION.

Inscribed to Mr. Mundy al reading his Poem on Needwood

Forest.

HASTE from your dells, your woods, and lawns,
Nyınphs, Naiads, Satyrs, Fays, and Fauns,
Haste ! hither bring your flowers and boughs,
And weave a wreath for Mundy's brows!

First twigs of oak from Swilcar rend,
And round his auburn temples bend;
Then tye the ends, that twisting meet,
With tendrils from the woodbine sweet:
With laurel blossoms next be spread
Pale ivy crosswise o'er his head;
These holly sprigs insert between,
--The berries blush amid the green-
While hare-bells blue, and lilies fair,
Mix'd with the wild-rose, deck his hair.

Now with fantastic steps advance,
And hand in hand around him dance;
To vaten pipe attune his lays,
And hail the bard, who'sings your praise.
" While the gay choirings of the grove,
“ Give breath to harmony and love,
“ And golden furze, and purple ling
• Around their mix'd' embroidery Hing,
And, all irregularly join'd,
" Th' according out-line waves behind.

ANNA SEWARD.

LINES,

ON MR. MUNDY'S NEEDWOOD FOREST.

* BY ERASMUS DARWIN, JUNIOR.

WHERE NEEDWOOD's banks embroider'd smile
On bright-hair’d Dove, the British Nile,
Pleas'd MUNDY fix'd his easel strong,
And stretch'd his canvas wide and long;
Broad o'er his hand the pallet lies,
With pencils for a thousand dyes.
He look'd, and drew, and look'd again,
-Enamour'd Fancy snatch'd the pen,
Nymphs, Graces, Loves, around him throng,
With all the sisterhood of song:
Bright tints by Fairy hands were mix'd,
And Witchcraft etch'd the shades betwixt.

Delighted Flora smil'd and drew
The primrose pale and violet blue.

* Drowned in 1800, near Litchfield.

A Naiad spreads the flake of snow White foams the glittering stream below. “ Give me the pallet,” Love demands, And stretching forth his baby hauds Dipp'd with nice touch his keenest shaft In all the blushing lakes, † and laugh'd; With sweetest grace the pencil flow'd, With softest tints the canvas glow'd; “ I'll draw mamma,” the wanton cries, And Talbor's features charm our eyes! With airy ease the white neck bends, Lock after lock the hair descends : O’er the fair form the graces spread Their vest, and Hymen wreathes the head.

And then Thalia, muse of woe,
Moves o'er the woof her crayon slow,
Here, cold, bewilder'd, tir'd, forlorn,
The traveller sighs in vain for morn;
Stretch'd on the imprinted snow he lies,
And bends on heaven his stiffening eyes.
There Friendship sits the shade beneath,
And twines for CLARKE a fadeless wreath;
Fresh Cypress with the flowers she weaves,
And many a tear-drop gems the leaves.
Next o'er the lawn a virgin throng
In sad procession moves along,
Lorn Loves inverted torches bear,
And Pity weeps o'er Vernon's bier.

To shade the distant ground, and lay
The rising group in bolder day,
A Dryad chalks some dusky strokes,
Behind umbrageous frown her oaks !

Flakewhite,
^ Carnation colours

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