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"To win me from his tender arms
"Unnumber'd fuitors came,
Who prais'd me for imputed charms, "And felt, or feign'd a flame.
"Each morn the gay fantastic crowd "With richest proffers ftrove;
Among the rest young Edwin bow'd, "But never talk'd of love.
"In humble, fimpleft habit clad, "No wealth nor power had he;
“A constant heart was all he had, "But that was all to me.
"The bloffom opening to the day,
"The dew, the bloffom on the tree,
"With charms inconstant shine;
"Their charms were his, but woe to me, "Their conftancy was mine.
"For ftill I try'd each fickle art,
"Importunate and vain ;
"And while his paffion touch'd my heart,
"I triumph'd in his pain.
Till, quite dejected with my scorn,
"He left me to my pride; "And fought a folitude forlorn,
"In fecret, where he dy'd.
"But mine the forrow, mine the fault,
"And, there forlorn despairing hid,
"And fo for him will I.
"Thou shalt not thus," the hermit cry'd,
"Twas Edwin's felf that preft.
Turn, Angelina, ever dear,
My charmer, turn to see,
"Thy own, thy long-loft Edwin here,
"Reftor'd to love and thee.
"Thus let me hold thee to my heart,
"And ev'ry care refign:
"And fhall we never, never part,
my all that's mine."
"No, never, from this hour to part,
"We'll live and love so true;
"The figh that rends thy conftant heart, "Shall break thy Edwin's too."
By Mr. Moo R E.
The NIGHTINGALE and GLOW-WORM.
HE prudent nymph, whose cheeks disclose
From public view her charms will fcreen,
This fimple truth shall keep her wise,
"The fairest fruits attract the flies."
One night a glow-worm, proud and vain, Contemplating her glitt'ring train,
Cry'd, fure there never was in nature
So elegant, fo fine a creature.
All other infects, that I fee,
The frugal ant, industrious bee,
Or filk-worm, with contempt I view ;
Mean, vulgar herd! ye are my scorn,
And kings on earth their gems admire,
She spoke. Attentive on a spray,
Pride, foon or late, degraded mourns,
HYMEN and DEATH.
IXTEEN, dy'e fay? nay then 'tis time,
Another year deftroys your prime.
But ftay-the fettlement ! "That's made.”
Yet hold a moment, if you can,
And heedfully the fable scan.
The shades were fled, the morning blufh'd,
The winds were in their caverns hush'd
Held o'er the fields his mufing gait.