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'Tis granted-and their bloom display'd

To bless my wondering view;
I see them all—my beauteous maid,

I see them all in-You,

FRAGMENT.

Part of a poem written on Miss Bellamy

WHEN IN DUBLIN.

FROM slavish rules, mechanic forms, untied, She soars, with sacred nature for her guide. The smile of peace—the wildness of despairThe softening sight-the soul-dissolving tear; Each magic charm the boasted Oldfield knew, Enchanting Bellamy! revives in you.

"Tis thine, resistless, the superior art To search the soul, and trace the various heart; With native force, with unaffected ease, To form the yielding passions as you please!

Oldmixon's' charms, by melody impress’d, May gently touch the song-enamour'd breast; But transient raptures must attend the wound Where the light arrow is convey'd by sound!

Or should Mechel? all languishing advance, Her limbs display'd in every maze of dance, (The soul untouch'd) she captivates the sight; But breathing wit with judgment must unite To give the man of reason unconfined delight.

| A lady celebrated for singing. 2 A dancer then in Smock Alley Theatre.

FRA GMENT.

To Mr. Woods,

ARCHITECT OF THE EXCHANGE AT LIVERPOOL,

WHERE Mersey' rolls her wealth-bestowing

waves, And the wide sandy beach triumphant laves; Where naval store in harbour'd safety rides, Unmoved by storms, unhurt by threatening tides; Commerce-paternal goddess! sits serene, Commandant of the tributes of the main.

But yet no temple lifts its high-topp'd spire; Simple her seat—and artless her attire! Around attendant priests in order wait, Guiltless of

pomp and ignorant of state: The godhead's power though unadorn'd they own, And bend with incense-at her low-built throne.

Pallas beheld-she quits the ambient skies, And thus the blue-eyed maid indignant cries• Is it for thee-my Woods!—to sit supine? (Thy genius fraught with every grace of mine) Is it for thee-to whose mysterious band Science-and sister arts obsequious stand, Inglorious thus to let a goddess pine ? No throne-no temple-no superior shrine! Haste, haste! command the well wrought columns

rise, And lift my favourite commerce to the skies.'

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| The river Mersey at Liverpool.

RECANTATION.
Of spleen so dormant, indolence so great,
I've thoughtless flatter'd what in truth I hate.

ACROSTIC ON POLLY SUTTON. PRAY tell me, says Venus, one day to the Graces (On a visit they came, and had just taken their places).

[faces: Let me know why of late I can ne'er see your Ladies,nothing I hope happen'd here to affright ye; You've had compliment cards every day to invite

ye.' Says Cupid, who guess’d their rebellious pro

ceeding; Understand, dear mamma, there's some mis

chief abreeding : There's

's a fair one at Lincoln, so finish'd a beauty, That your loves and your graces all swerve from their duty

[put on; my life (says dame Venus), I'll not be thus Now I think on’t, last night some one calld me

Miss Sutton.'

. On

ACROSTIC ON WIDOW MADDER.

WHERE no ripen’d summer glows,
In the lap of northern snows;
Deserts gloomy, cold, and drear,
(Only let the nymph be there)
Wreaths of budding sweets would wear.

63

A CHARACTER ... WITH A PRESENT.
May would every fragrance bring,
All the vernal bloom of spring :
Dryads, deck'd with myrtles green,
Dancing, would attend their queen:
Every flower that Nature spreads,
Rising where the charmer treads!

A CHARACTER.

The Muse of a soldier so whimsical sings,
He's captain at once to four different kings;
And though in their battles he boldly behaves,
To their queens he's a cull, and a dupe to their

knaves.
Whilst others are cheerfully join'd in the chase,
Young Hobbinol's hunting the critical ace:
On feasts or on fasts though the parson exclaim,
Under hedges or haycocks he'll stick to his game:
Yet the priest cannot say he's quite out of his fold,
For he's always at church-when a tithe's to be

sold.

WITH A PRESENT.

LET not the hand of Amity be nice!
Nor the

poor

tribute from the heart disclaim ; A trifle shall become a pledge of price,

If Friendship stamps it with her sacred name. The little rose that laughs upon its stem,

One of the sweets with which the gardens teem, In value soars above an eastern gem,

If tender'd as the token of esteem.

Had I vast hoards of massy wealth to send,

Such as your merits might demand-their due! Then should the golden tribute of your

friend Rival the treasures of the rich Peru.

LINES SENT TO MISS BELL H.,

WITH A PAIR OF BUCKLES.

HAPPY trifles, can ye bear
Sighs of fondness to the fair?
If your pointed tongues can tell
How I love my charming Bell,
Fondly take a lover's part,
Plead the anguish of my heart.

Go-ye trifles-gladly fly
(Gracious in my fair one's eye),
Fly-your envied bliss to meet;
Fly, and kiss the charmer's feet.

Happy there, with waggish play,
Though you revel day by day,
Like the donor every night
(Robb’d of his supreme delight), ,
To subdue your wanton pride,
Useless, you'll be thrown aside.

EPIGRAPHE

FOR DEAN SWIFT'S MONUMENT.

EXECUTED BY MR. P. CUNNINGHAM, STATUARY IN DUBLIN SAY, to the Drapier's vast unbounded fame,

What added honours can the sculptor give? None-'tis a sanction from the Drapier's name

Must bid the sculptor and his marble live.

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