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Τ Η Ε
L E T T E R.
IN rural innocence secure I dwell,
Alike to fortune and to fame unknown ;
Approving conscience cheers my humble cell,
And social quiet marks me for her own.
Next to the blessings of religious truth,
Two gifts my endless gratitude engage ;
Now, with a fon, the comfort of my age.
Seek not to draw me from this kind retreat,
In loftier spheres unft, untaught to move ; Content, with calm, domestic life, where meet
The smiles of friendship, and the sweets of love.
Τ Η Ε
Β Α R D:
R. LLOYD AND G. COLMAN.
ΦΩΝΑΝΤΑ ΣΥΝΕΤOΙΣΙΝ ΕΣ
AUGHTER of Chaos and old Night,
Cimmerian Muse ! all hail! That wrapt in never-twinkling gloom canft write,
And shadowest meaning with thy dulky veil !
What Poet fings, and strikes the strings?
It was the mighty Theban spoke.
He, from the ever-living lyre,
With magic hand elicits fire.
Involv'd in tenfold smoke.