ODE.

BY MR. SHAW.

WHILE I was absent from my fair,
Ye hours, I bad you speed your flight,
Swift as the winds that sweep the air,
Till Delia blest again my sight.]

But then you crept with dull delay,
Regardless of a lover's pain;
And slowly brought at length the day
When Delia blest my eyes again.

Now when the nymph delights my sight,
Ye hours, I bid you softly stay
Your speed, nor with too hasty flight
The precious minutes bear away.

But now on swiftest wings ye move,
And now ye bring that moment near
Which parts me from the nymph I love,
And Delia sheds the tender tear.

O wayward hours, that slowly move,
Or swiftly at your pleasure glide,
Why are ye bent to cross my love,
And from my fair one to divide ?

Yet vain your malice is and art!
While you pursue your circling race,
You never from my constant heart
My Delia's image can efface.

1776.

TO A LADY,

With a new Year's Gift; the Author being accustomed tu

make her an Annual Present.

1764.

BY F. N. C. MUNDAY, ESQ.

In days of yore, as they record,
When all was carried by the sword;
When folks took not the least delight in
Aught on the earth of God, but fighting;
A King sometimes, by way of riot,
Seeing his neighbours slept in quiet,
And little dream'd of harm, would therefore,
Without another why or wherefore,
Descend upon him sword in hand,
And rob him of his crown and land,
And then to shew his generosity,
Laying aside his late ferocity,
The Conqueror freely would restore
What strictly was the man's before,
Provided he, upon his knees,

Would swear to some such rules as these:
"You vassal in my cause must fight,

Whether that cause be wrong or right;
"And without grumbling draw your sword,
"Whene'er I please to give the word;
"And when we meet, thus kneeling down,
"Must do me homage for your crown:
"And once a year, by way of token
"That these your vows remain unbroken,

Some trifling present let me have, "Deliver'd from you as my slave: "And, if it be not duly paid,

Depend upon't this trusty blade
"Shall never rest within its sheath,
"Until it has procur'd your death."
-O'er neighbouring king, and subject peer,
The tyrant thus would domineer;
Whilst every baron in the nation,
Posess'd of king-like imitation,
The same allegiance would extort
From farmers at his country court:
And if he came not gift in hand,
Wou'd oust the villain from his land.
E'en in these present days full fifty
Good instances I soon cou'd give t'ye,
Where annual peppercorns are sent
By way of an acknowledgment.
"But whither does this story tend?
"Sir, will you never make an end?"
Yes Ma'am, I've done with my relation,
Proceed we to the application:

As ancient monarchs by their bravery
Reduc'd their brother-kings to slavery;
As barons in subjection held
The rustic tillers of the field;
So you by one resistless glance,
Keener by far than sword or lance,
Enter'd my breast by means unfair,
And founded your dominion there.
Yes, tyrant, yes, too well 'tis known
My captive heart is all your own;
The wounds you gave will ever bleed→→
"Sir to the point."-Ma'am I proceed:
As ancient peers, and ancient peasants
Purchased their peace by annual presents,

And often turn'd aside the sword
By gifts to the superior Lord;
So I, who owe undoubted duty
To so much wit, to so much beauty,
Send you this mark of my subjection,
As harbouring no disaffection:
For if I shou'd but once neglect
This yearly token of respect,

You soon wou'd send your armed forces
To punish my rebellious courses.
E'en now methinks I see you rise,
With vengeance sparkling in your eyes;
Anger contracts your threatening brows;
And on your cheek resentment glows;
Your voice upbraids my traitor heart
That from its fealty durst depart.
But spare me, cruel victor, spare!
Your smiles are more than I can bear;
And less, far less can I sustain
Your looks of anger and disdain.
I dare not stand th' unequal strife,
-O take my gift and spare my life.

EPIGRAM.

IMITATED FROM MARTIAL.

WITH a room-full, to me all unknown,
You bid me make one at your feast:
I decline it; you grumble and groan,
And call me unsociable beast,-
Why, since I must dine quite alone,
I'll dine by myself, Sir, at least.

N. B. HALHED, ESQ.

ODE TO THE SPIRIT OF ANIMATION.

[Vide DARWIN's Zoonomia, Vol. I.]

Indited on a Journey on Horseback last Winter, and travelling late at Night.

O THOU! whose presence none can trace
'Midst all the sons of ADAM's race,
Nor tell, or where, or when,
Or how thou sprang'st to life at first,
Or in what corner thou wast nurst
Of this frail house of men:

Dear to my head, my heart most dear,
SPIRIT OF ANIMATION! hear,

I

Nor let our union end.

own, without thee I'm undone:

And where could'st thou for shelter run,
Should'st thou desert thy friend?

I know thy alderman desire

For drink and rest, for food and fire,
Whilst I am cold and wet:
But patience till we reach yon inn;
I'll ply thee then with ale and gin,
And many a dish I'll get.

But mark, when fill'd, no pranks like those
Which learned Doctor DARWIN shows,
Who says, that when thou'rt full,
Thou'rt apt to play men many a trick,
And frisk about, and toss, and kick,
Just like a mad town-bull.