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CLARINDA... FANNY OF THE DALE. Were mine, ye great! your envied lot,
In gilded courts to dwell; I'd leave them for a lonely cot
With Love and Kitty Fell.
CLARINDA's lips I fondly press'd,
While rapture fill’d each vein;
Its tenant slept serene.
Betrays a peaceful mind;
Would scarcely be confined.
Unmoved, when storms descend;
The myrtle bough must bend,
FANNY OF THE DALE.
Let the declining damask rose
With envious grief look pale;
In Fanny of the Dale.
Or scents the morning gale,
As Fanny of the Dale?
The painted belles, at court revered,
Look lifeless, cold, and stale:
With Fanny of the Dale!
Her fond advances fail ;
his warmest vows
And artless love prevail;
With Fanny of the Dale!
No longer, Daphne, I admire
eyes ; Continued coyness kills desire,
And famish'd passion dies. Three tedious years I've sigh'd in vain,
Nor could my vows prevail; With all the rigours of disdain
You scorn’d my amorous tale. When Celia cried, How senseless she,
That has such vows refused;
It had been kinder used.
A thousand will enjoy.'
Such charming words, so void of art,
Surprising rapture gave;
heart, It ceased to be a slave: A wretch condemn'd shall Daphne prove;
While, bless'd without restraint, In the sweet calendar of love
My Celia stands—a saint.
The pendent forest seem'd to nod,
In drowsy fetters bound; And fairy elves in circles trod
The daisy-painted ground:
Of slighted vows to tell,
Invoked sad Philomel
• The stars their silver radiance shed,
And silence charms the plain; But where's my Philomela fled,
To sing her lovelorn strain ?
Direct thy hovering wing:
Till you vouchsafe to sing.
(Thy warbling song distress'd!) The tear that tells the lover's woe
Falls cold upon my breast.
To hear sad Philomel complain
Will soften my despair;
And sooth a lover's care.'
A listening sage replied,
From unrelenting pride?
Had seized his trembling frame;
Pronounced Zaphira's name.
A MAN TO MY MIND.
WRITTEN AT THE REQUEST OF A LADY. SINCE wedlock's in vogue, and stale virgins despised,
(mised; To all batchelors, greeting, these lines are preI'm a maid that would marry, but where shall I find (I wish not for fortune) a man to my mind? Not the fair-weather fop, fond of fashion and lace; Not the squire that can wake to no joys but the chase;
(bind: Not the free-thinking rake, whom no morals can Neither this--that-nor the other's the man to
Not the ruby-faced sot, that topes world without end;
[friend; Not the drone, who can't relish his bottle and Not the fool, that's too fond; nor the churl that's unkind:
[mind. Neither this-that-northe' other's the man to my Not the wretch with full bags, without breeding
or merit; Not the Flash, that's all fury without any spirit; Not the fine master Fribble, the scorn of mankind: Neither this-that-nor the other's the man to
But the youth in whom merit and sense may con
spire; Whom the brave must esteem, and the fair should admire ;
[combined: In whose heart love and truth are with honour This—this—and no other's the man to my mind,
TO CHLOE WITH A ROSE.
I pass'd unheeded by,
Had fix'd my wandering eye.
To meet the morning beam.
Its fragrance can't excel,
The damask charmer fell :
On Chloe's breast she pours,
The gentle Queen of Flowers.