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The deepest damask of the rose.
Then, heedful to the finish'd whole,
With fondest eagerness he stole,
Till scarce himself distinctly knew
The cherub copied from the true.

Now, painter, cease! Thy task is done.
Long lives this image of thy fon;
Nor short lived shall the glory prove
Or of thy labour or thy love.

THE MAZE.

ROM right to left, and to and fro,

Caught in a labyrinth you go,

And turn, and turn, and turn again, To solve the mystery, but in vain ; Stand still, and breathe, and take from me A clue, that soon shall set you free! Not Ariadne, if you meet her, Herself could serve

you

with a better. You enter'd easily—find whereAnd make with ease your exit there !

!

а

NO SORROW PECULIAR TO THE

SUFFERER.

HE lover, in melodious verses,
His singular distress rehearses.
Still closing with a

rueful

cry, “ Was ever such a wretch as I?”

Yes! thousands have endured before
All thy distress; some, haply, more.
Unnumber'd Corydons complain,
And Strephons, of the like disdain ;
And if thy Chloe be of steel,
Too deaf to hear, too hard to feel;
Not her alone that censure fits,
Nor thou alone haft lost thy wits.

THE SNAIL.

O grass, or leaf, or fruit, or wall,

The Snail sticks close, nor fears to fall,
As if he grew there, house and all

Together.

Within that house secure he hides,
When danger imminent betides
Of storm, or other harm besides

Of weather.

Give but his horns the Nightest touch,
His self-collecting power is such,
He shrinks into his house with much

Displeasure.

Where'er he dwells, he dwells alone,
Except himself has chattels none,
Well satisfied to be his own

Whole treasure.

Thus, hermit-like, his life he leads,
Nor partner of his banquet needs,
And if he meets one, only feeds

The faster.

Who seeks him must be worse than blind,
(He and his house are so combined)
If, finding it, he fails to find

Its master.

THE CANTAB.

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,

ITH two spurs or one, and no great mat

ter which,
Boots bought, or boots borrow'd, a whip

or a switch,
Five shillings or less for the hire of his beast,
Paid part into hand ;—you must wait for the rest.
Thus equipt, Academicus climbs up his horse,
And out they both sally for better or worse;
His heart void of fear, and as light as a feather ;
And in violent haste to go not knowing whither :
Through the fields and the towns; (see !) he scam-

pers along,
And is look’ at and laugh'd at by old and by young.
Till at length overspent, and his sides smear'd with

blood,
Down tumbles his horse, man and all, in the mud.
In a waggon or chaise, shall he finish his route?
Oh! scandalous fate, he must do it on foot.

2.

VOL. II.

KK

Young gentlemen, hear !—I am older than you! The advice that I give I have proved to be true, Wherever

your journey may be, never doubt it, The faster you ride, you're the longer about it.

ON THE PICTURE OF A SLEEPING

CHILD. .

From the Latin of Vincent Bourn.

WEET babe! whose image here ex

press’d

Does thy peaceful Numbers show; Guilt or fear, to break thy rest,

Never did thy spirit know.

Soothing slumbers! soft repose !

Such as mock the painter's skill, Such as innocence bestows,

Harmless infant! lull thee ftill!

THE END.

C. Whittingham, Tooks Court, Chancery Lane.

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