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• Hear me, ye groves, who saw me blefs'd so late ;
• Echo, you hills, my fad reverse of fate;
• Ye winds, that bear my fighs, soft murmurs send;
• Come pay me back, ye streams, the drops I lend :
• And you, sweet Susan, source of all my

{mart, • Bestow some pity on a broken heart.

Happy the times, by painful memory bless’d, • When you poffefling, Robin all possess’d ! • Pass'd by your fide, each day brought new delight, · And one sweet slumber Morten'd every night. • My play your service, for no toil seem'd hard, • When your kind favour was the hop'd reward. . I rose to milking, though 'twas ne'er so cool ; • I call’d the cows up; I kept off the bull : · Home on my head I bore the pail upright;

The pail was heavy, but love made it light; • And when you spilt the milk, and ’gan to cry, • I took the blame, and simply said_" 'Twas I.” " When by the haycock's side you sleeping lay, • Sent by good angels, there I chanc'd to stray,

Just as a loathsome adder rear'd his crest, « To dart his poison in your lily breast,

Straight with a stone I crush'd the monster's head ; • You wak’d, and fainted, though you found him dead! · Then, from the pond, I water brought apace,

My hat brimful, and daih'd it in your face : • Still, blue as bilberry, your cold lips did quake, · Till my warm kisses call’d the cherry back. " When, looking thro' his worship’s garden-gate, • Ripe peaches tempted, and you long’d to eat ; • Tho' the grim mastiff growld, and sternly stalk’d, • Tho' guns were loaded, and old Madam walk'd;

Nor dogs nor darkness, guns or ghosts, could fright, " When Robin ventur'd for his Sue's delight: • Joyful of midnight, quick I post away, « Leap the high wall, and fearless pluck the prey ;

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* Down in your lap a plenteous shower they fall ;
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you receiv'd them, and you eat them all.
• When fair-day came, I donr'd my Sunday suit,
* Brush'd the best pillion clean, and saddled Cutt.
• Then up we got ; you clung about my waist;
• Pleas'd to be hugg'd, I charg'd you clip me faft;
* And when you loos’d your hold, and backwards slipp’d,
• I held your petticoats, and never peep'd.
• The posied garters, and the top-knot fine,
• The golden gingerbread, and all was mine:
• I paid the puppet-show, the cakes, the fack;

And, fraught with fairings, brought you laughing back.
! Susan but spoke, and each gay flower was there,
« To dress her bough-pot, or adorn her hair ;
s For her the choicest of the woods I cull,
• Sloes, hips, and strawberries, her bellyful :

My hoard of apples I to her confess'd ;
. My heart was her's, well might she have the rest,
* And Susan well approv'd her Robin's care :
? Yes, you was pleas’d; at least you


you were,
" In love's soft fire you seem'd like me to burn,

And sooth'd my fondness with a kind return.
* At our long table, when we fat to dine,
• You stretch'd your knees, and mingled feet with mine;
• With fatteft bacon you my trencher ply'd,
• And slic'd my pudding from the plummy fide :
* And well I wot, when our small-beer was stale,
• You stole into the barn, and brought me ale.
* But, oh! the foldier, blaster of my hopes !
• (Curse on pretending kings, and Papish popes!)
• He came from Flanders with the red-coat crew,
< To fight with rebels, and he conquer'd you.
• His dowlas ruffles, and his copper lace,
? His brickduft stockings, and his brazen face ;
« These are the charms for which you Night my youth,
$ Charms much too potent for a maiden's truth !
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• Soon on the feather'd fool you turn'd your eyes; • Eager you liften'd to the braggart's lyes ;

And, scorning me, your heart to him refign, • Your faithless heart, by vows and service mine. • True, he is gone, by our brave duke's command, • To humble Britain's foes in foreign land : • Ah, what is that the spoiler bears away

The only thing for which 'twas worth to stay. • But forrow's dry ; I'll Nake it in the brook O well-a-diay! how frightful pale I look! “ Care's a consumer,” (so the saying speaks ;) · The saying's true, I read it in my cheeks. • Fye! I'll be chcarful, 'tis a fancied pain ; • A flame so conftant cannot meet disdain : « I'll wash my face, and ihake off foul despair ;

My love is kind !-alas, I would she were ! • Well says our parfon ; and our parson said, " True love, and tithes, should ever well be paid."! ? Susan, from you my heart shall never roam, • If your's be wandering, quickly call it home,'



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While howling tempeits, from their rocky bed,
Indignant break around his careful head.

The royal licet the liquid waste explores,
And speaks in thunder to the trembling fhores;


The voice of wrath awak'd, the nations hear,
The vanquish'd hope, and the proud victors fear;
Those quit their chain, and these resign their palm,
While Britain's awful fag commands a calm.

The curious sage, nor gain nor fame pursues,
With other eyes the boiling deep he views ;
Hangs o'er the cliff inquisitive to know
The secret causes of it's ebb and flow;
Whence breathe the winds that ruffle it's smooth face,
Or ranks in classes all the fishy race,
From those enormous monsters of the main,
Who in their world, like other tyrants, reign,
To the poor cockle-tribe, that humble band,
Who cleave to rocks, or loiter on the strand.
Yet even their shells the Forming Hand divine
Has, with distinguish'd luftre, taught to shine.
What bright enamel ! and what various dyes !
What lively tints delight our wondering eyes !
T'h' Almighty Painter glows in every line:
How mean, alas ! is Raphael's bold design,
And Titian's colouring, if compar'd to thine!
Juftly Supreme! let us thy power revere,
Thou fill'It all space ! all-beauteous every where !
T'hy rising fun with blushes paints the morn ;
Thy shining lamps the face of night adorn ;
Thy Aowers the meads, thy nodding trees the hills ;
The vales thy pastures green, and bubblin; rills :
Thy coral groves, thy rocks that amber weep,
Deck all the gloomy mansions of the deep;
Thy yellow fands, distinct with golden ore,
And these thy variegated shells, the fore!
To all thy works such grandeur haft thou lent,
And such extravagance

of ornament. For the false traitor, man,


and show ? A scene so gay, for us poor worms below ?


No! for thy glory all these beauties rise ;
Yet may improve the good, instruct the wise.

You, Madam, sprung from Beaufort's royal line,
Who, lost to courts, can in your closet shine,
Best know to use each blessing he bestows,
Best know to praise the Power from whence it flows.
Shelis in your hand the Parian rock defy,
Or agate, or Ægyptian porphyry ;
More glossy they, their veins of brighter dye.
See! where your riing pyramids aspire ;
Your guests, furpriz'd, the thining pile admire !
In future times, if some great Phidias rise,
Whose chiffel with his mistress Nature vies,
Who, with superior skill, can lightly trace,
In the hard marble block, the softest face;
To crown this piece, so elegantly neat,
Your well-wrought bufto fhall the whole compleat ;
O’er your own work from age to age preside,
It's author once, and then it's greatest pride,

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ULSE shook his head ; poor Damon lay a dying ;

• O stay!" she said; • and must we part !

• My soul, like thine, is on the wing: • Methinks, I feel Death's iron dart ; But, oh! 'tis that which wounds thy heart,

· That bears to mine the sting!! Her grief was great, so was her moan,

And much to die fhe seem'd inclin'd; Howe'er, she let him go alone,

And prudently remain'd behind, A week, or so, was past and gone, Still the continu'd weeping on,


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