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Ah, hapless dame! no sire bewails,
No friend thy wretched fate deplores,
No kindred voice with rapture hails

Thy steps within a stranger's doors.


Έρωτες ὑπὲρ μὲν ἄγαν, κ. τ. λ.
WHEN fierce conflicting passions urge
The breast where love is wont to glow,
What mind can stem the stormy surge

Which rolls the tide of human woe?
The hope of praise, the dread of shame,
Can rouse the tortured breast no more;
The wild desire, the guilty flame,
Absorbs each wish it felt before.

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Perish the fiend whose iron heart,

To fair affection's truth unknown,
Bids her he fondly loved depart,

Unpitied, helpless, and alone;
Who ne'er unlocks with silver key

The milder treasures of his soul,-
May such a friend be far from me,
And ocean's storms between us roll!



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With eager haste they court the lord of

power, Whether 't is Pitt or Petty rules the hour; To him, with suppliant smiles, they bend the head, While distant mitres to their eyes are . spread.

But should a storm o'erwhelm him with disgrace,

They'd fly to seek the next who fill'd his place.

Such are the men who learning's treasures guard!

Such is their practice, such is their reward! This much, at least, we may presume to



The premium can't exceed the price they pay. 1806.

TO A BEAUTIFUL QUAKER SWEET girl! though only once we met, That meeting I shall ne'er forget; And though we ne'er may meet again, Remembrance will thy form retain. I would not say, 'I love,' but still My senses struggle with my will: In vain, to drive thee from my breast, My thoughts are more and more represt; In vain I check the rising sighs, Another to the last replies: Perhaps this is not love, but yet Our meeting I can ne'er forget.


What though we never silence broke,
Our eyes a sweeter language spoke.
The tongue in flattering falsehood deals,
And tells a tale it never feels;
Deceit the guilty lips impart,

And hush the mandates of the heart;
But soul's interpreters, the eyes,
Spurn such restraint and scorn disguise.
As thus our glances oft conversed,
And all our bosoms felt, rehearsed,
No spirit, from within, reproved us,
Say rather, ''t was the spirit moved us.'
Though what they utter'd I repress,
Yet I conceive thou 'lt partly guess;
For as on thee my memory ponders,
Perchance to me thine also wanders.
This for myself, at least, I'll say,
Thy form appears through night, through



Awake, with it my fancy teems;
In sleep, it smiles in fleeting dreams;
The vision charms the hours away,
And bids me curse Aurora's ray
For breaking slumbers of delight
Which make me wish for endless night:
Since, oh! whate'er my future fate,
Shall joy or woe my steps await,
Tempted by love, by storms beset,
Thine image I can ne'er forget.

Alas! again no more we meet,
No more our former looks repeat;
Then let me breathe this parting prayer,
The dictate of my bosom's care:
'May Heaven so guard my lovely quaker,
That anguish never can o'ertake her;
That peace and virtue ne'er forsake her,
But bliss be aye her heart's partaker!
Oh, may the happy mortal, fated
To be by dearest ties related,
For her each hour new joys discover,
And lose the husband in the lover!
May that fair bosom never know
What 't is to feel the restless woe
Which stings the soul with vain regret,
Of him who never can forget!'

August, 1806.

No specious splendour of this stone

Endears it to my memory ever; With lustre only once it shone,

And blushes modest as the giver.


[The cornelian was given him by the Cambridge chorister, Edleston.]


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Still, not for her alone we wish respect,
Others appear more conscious of defect: 10
To-night no veteran Roscii you behold,
In all the arts of scenic action old;

No Cooke, no Kemble, can salute you here,
No Siddons draw the sympathetic tear;
To-night you throng to witness the début
Of embryo actors, to the Drama new.
Here, then, our almost unfledged wings we

Clip not our pinions ere the birds can fly: Failing in this our first attempt to soar,

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To give the palm where Justice points its due;'

Yet let not canker'd Calumny assail, Or round our statesman wind her gloomy veil. Fox! o'er whose corse a mourning world must weep,

Whose dear remains in honour'd marble sleep;


For whom, at last, e'en hostile nations groan, While friends and foes alike his talents own;

Fox shall in Britain's future annals shine, Nor e'en to PITT the patriot's palm resign; Which Envy, wearing Candour's sacred mask,

For PITT, and PITT alone, has dared to ask.


O lachrymarum fons, tenero sacros
Ducentium ortus ex animo; quater
Felix! in imo qui scatentem
Pectore te, pia Nympha, sensit. —


WHEN Friendship or Love our sympathies


When Truth in a glance should appear, The lips may beguile with a dimple or smile,

But the test of affection's a Tear.

Too oft is a smile but the hypocrite's wile
To mask detestation or fear;
Give me the soft sigh, whilst the soul-tell-
ing eye

Is dimm'd for a time with a Tear.

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