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THE CAUSE WON.
WO neighbours furiously dispute ;
Trivial the spot, yet such the rage
Defendant thus becomes a name, Which he that bore it may disclaim, Since both, in one description blended, Are plaintiffs—when the suit is ended.
HE beams of April, ere it goes,
All winter long content to dwell
For, his dimensions once complete,
THE INNOCENT THIEF.
OT a flower can be found in the fields,
Or the spot that we till for our pleasure,
From the largest to least, but it yields The bee, never wearied, a treasure.
Scarce any she quits unexplored
With a diligence truly exact ; Yet, steal what she may for her hoard,
Leaves evidence none of the fact.
Her lucrative task she pursues,
And pilfers with so much address, That none of their odour they lose,
Nor charm by their beauty the less.
Not thus inoffensively preys
The canker-worm, in-dwelling foe! His voracity not thus allays
The sparrow, the finch, or the crow.
The worm, more expensively fed,
The pride of the garden devours ; And birds peck the feed from the bed,
Still less to be spared than the flowers.
But the with such delicate skill
Her pillage so fits for her use, That the chemist in vain with his still
Would labour the like to produce.
Then grudge not her temperate meals,
Nor a benefit blame as a theft; Since, stole she not all that the steals,
Neither honey nor wax would be left.
DENNER’S OLD WOMAN.
N this mimic form of a matron in years,
, No wrinkle, or deep-furrow'd frown on the brow! Her forehead indeed is here circled around With locks like the riband with which they are
bound; While glossy and smooth, and as soft as the skin Of a delicate peach, is the down of her chin ; But nothing unpleasant, or sad, or severe, Or that indicates life in its winter—is here. Yet all is express’d with fidelity due, Nor a pimple or freckle conceald from the view.
Many fond of new sights, or who cherish a taste For the labours of art, to the spectacle haste. The youths all agree, that could old age inspire The passion of love, hers would kindle the fire, And the matrons with pleasure confess that they see Ridiculous nothing or hideous in thee. The nymphs for themselves scarcely hope a decline, O wonderful woman! as placid as thine. Strange magic of art! which the youth can en
gage To peruse, half enamour'd, the features of age;
And force from the virgin a figh"of despair, That she when as old shall be equally fair! How great is the glory that Denner has gain'd, Since Apelles not more for his Venus obtain’d.
THE TEARS OF A PAINTER.
PELLES, hearing that his boy
Altho' the fight with anguish tore him,
('Tis all that I can now bestow,) This tribute of a father's woe!” Then, faithful to the twofold
Thus far is well. But view again