Double, double, toil and trouble,
Touch the cash-the nation bubble.
SECOND DEVIL.
Cool it with an empty boast,
every day we sell the most," "Tis done-behold the The Morning Post!
BY MICHAEL WODHULL, ESQ. WHAT still does fair Lucy's disdain Occasion this festering smart; Cannot time give relief to your pain, And heal the slight wound in your heart?
The arrows of Cupid, I know,
At first are all pointed with steel:
But how frail is the strength of his bow!
How fleeting the pangs which we feel!
His wings they are shatter'd by Time,
His quiver is soil'd in the dust,
Such, such, is Life's flowery prime,
And Beauty's most insolent trust.
Taste the joys a new passion can give,
With the nymph that's complying and kind;
Or, learning more sagely to live,
Be blest, and give Love to the wind.
BY THE LATE REV. T. COLE, LL.B.
SERENE and calm, the morning ray
Had pour'd a cheerful gleam of day
Through Philo's inmost grove,
When Damon there, in private, sought
With some kind muse to shun each thought
Of inauspicious love.
But nature's walks in vain he views,
In vain art's winding paths pursues,
Though worthy both of song;
For here the am'rous boughs embrace,
And all the charms he there can trace
To love alone belong.
The lofty vista's ample bent,
The rising prospect's vast extent,
Aspiring thoughts suggest;
And though the streams and zephyrs meet To cool the arbour's close retreat,
It but inflames his breast!
At length, beneath a BEECH's shade,
Each sightlier object to evade,
In pensive mood he came;
But there, alas! some kindred swain
Had on the bark inscrib'd his pain
With lovely CELIA's name!
Cupid at this, who all the while
Had watch'd his steps with secret guile,
Presents himself to sight;
And thinking now his conquest won,
The indignant tyrant thus begun
With insolent delight.
Attempt no more, thou rebel Slave,
A weak and tender heart to save
From mine and Celia's sway;
For whilst to me that charming maid
Consents to lend her pow'rful aid,
Thou shalt my will obey.
Cease then thy contest, and agree
To pay due homage still to me
At beauty's sacred shrine;
Nor ever from this time presume
Thy wonted commerce to resume
With any of the NINE.
Half yielding up dear Freedom's cause
To this usurper's rigid laws,
He hesitates assent;
And caught with Hope's delusive prize, Was half inclin'd to sacrifice
Th' enjoyment of content.
When, hark! a soft harmonious sound,
Through all the grove diffus'd around,
With wond'ring joy he hears:
And, lo! URANIA, quick as thought,
In a rich garb, by IRIS wrought,
Before him now appears.
Nor mild nor rigorous her mein,
But such as spoke intent benign,
Though purpos'd to upbraid;
And thus, inclin'd at once to' excite
Regret, attemper'd with delight,
Severely kind, she said:
In Contemplation's bow'r reclined,
Have I so often calm'd thy mind
With soothing lays in vain ;
My lyre, in vain, so often strung,
And with each fav'rite poet sung
To thee his choicest strain?
Let not this sly, insidious cheat,
With all his wiles, thy heart defeat,
But vindicate thy choice:
With courage own thy truest friend,
Nor fear to show thou dar'st attend
To mine, and Reason's voice.
Reflect on thy past happy state,
And call to mind, ere 'tis too late,
How well you once was taught
To bid defiance to those cares,
Which now you feel, and shun those snares,
In which you now are caught.
From Passion's meteor turn thy sight,
And let calm Reason's steady light
Thy footsteps always guide:
That only roves through Folly's chase,
But this leads Wisdom to the place
Where Truth and Peace reside.
At this Urania paus'd, to try
If Cupid chose to make reply
To aught she had express'd:
But ere suspense left either free,
The Hamadriad of the tree
Each party thus address'd:
The nymph, indeed, whose name I bear
May well deserve your rival care,
But 'tis as mutual friends:
Your sev'ral gifts for her combine,
Nor ere, in such a cause, decline
To serve each other's ends.
Let her whose charms at once can raise
The lover's sigh, the poet's praise,
Your equal favour find:
No more each other's votries scorn,
While perfect grace and worth adorn
Her person and her mind!
And though you must not yet declare
To whom the fates reserve the fair,
This gentle youth direct,
If to his mind he can't be blest,
From envy to secure his breast,
And bear with cool neglect.
That face which jealousy can love,
That conduct censure must approve,
Permit him to admire:
But, Oh! with strength possess his soul
Each anxious passion to controul,
And check each fond desire.
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