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ADDRESSED TO MISS STAPLETON.
Sue came--she is gone-we have met
And meet perhaps never again ; The sun of that moment is set,
And seems to have risen in vain. Catharina has fed like a dream
(So vanishes pleasure, alas !) But has left a regret and esteem
That will not so suddenly pass.
The last evening-ramble we made,
Catharina, Maria, and I, Our progress was often delay'd
By the nightingale warbling nigh. We paus'd under many a tree,
And much she was charm'd with a tone Less sweet to Maria and me,
Who had witness’d so lately her own.
them a grace
My numbers that day she had fung,
so divine, As only ber musical tongue
Could infufe into numbers of mine. The longer I heard, I esteem'd
The work of my fancy the more, And e'en to myself never seem'd
So tuneful a poet before.
Though the pleafures of London exceed
In number the days of the year, Catharina, did nothing impede,
Would feel herself happier here; For the close-woven arches of limes,
On the banks of our river, I know, Are sweeter to her many times
Than all that the city can how.
So it is, when the mind is endued
With a well-judging tafite from above, Then, whether embellish'd or rude,
'Tis nature alone that we love. The achievements of art may amuse,
May even our wonder excite,
But groves, hills, and vallies, diffuse
A lafting, a sacred delight.
Since then in the rural recess
Catharina alone can rejoice, May it still be her lot to possess
The scene of her fenfible choice To inhabit a mansion remote
From the clatter of ftreet-pacing steeds, And by Philomel's annual note
To measure the life that the leads.
With her book, and her voice, and her lyre,
To wing all her moments at home,
As oft as it suits her to roam,
With little to wish or to fear,
Might we view her enjoying it here.
THE MORALIZER CORRECTED.
A HERMIT (or if 'chance you
And right toward the favour'd place
Your hermit, young and jovial firs!
True, answer'd an angelic guide,