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Her conscious tail her joy declar'd ;

The fair round face, the fnowy beard,

The velvet of her paws,

The coat that with the tortoife vies,

Her ears of jet, and emerald eyes,
She faw, and purr'd applaufe.


Still had fhe gaz'd; but midst the tide
Two beauteous forms were feen to glide,

The Genii of the stream;

Their fcaly armour's Tyrian hue,

Through richest purple, to the view,

Betray'd a golden gleam.



The haplefs nymph, with wonder faw:
A whisker firft, and then a claw,
With many an ardent with,

She stretch'd, in vain, to reach the prize.

What female heart can gold defpife?
What cat's averfe to fish?


Presumptuous maid! with looks intent
Again the ftretch'd, again fhe bent,
Nor knew the gulf between;
(Malignant Fate fat by, and fmil'd)
The flippery verge her feet beguil'd;
She tumbled headlong in.


Eight times emerging from the flood,
She mew'd to every watery god,
Some speedy aid to fend.

No Dolphin came, no Nereid ftir'd,

No cruel Tom, nor Susan heard.
A favourite has no friend.


From hence, ye beauties, undeceiv'd,
Know, one false step is ne'er retriev'd,
And be with caution bold.

Not all that tempts your wandering eyes
And heedlefs hearts, is lawful prize;
Nor all, that glifters, gold.

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YE diftant fpires, ye antique towers,

That crown the wat❜ry glade,

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Of Windfor's heights th' expanse below

Of grove, of land, of mead furvey,

Whofe turf, whofe fhade, whofe flowers among
Wanders the hoary Thames along

His filver-winding way.


Ah happy hills! ah pleasing shade!

Ah fields, belov'd in vain!

Where once my careless childhood stray'd

A ftranger yet to pain!

King Henry VI. founder of the College.

I feel the gales, that from ye blow,

A momentary bliss bestow,

As waving fresh their gladsome wing,
My weary foul they seem to foothe,

And, redolent of joy and youth, *
To breathe a second spring.


Say, father Thames, for thou hast seen
Full many a fprightly race,
Difporting on thy margent green,
The paths of pleasure trace;

Who foremost now delight to cleave,
With pliant arms, thy glassy wave ?
The captive linnet which enthral?
What idle progeny fucceed

To chace the rolling circle's speed,
Or urge the flying ball?


While fome, on earnest business bent,

Their murmuring labours ply,

'Gainft graver hours, that bring constraint

To fweeten liberty;

Some bold adventurers difdain

The limits of their little reign,
And unknown regions dare defcry;
Still as they run they look behind,
They hear a voice in every wind,
And fnatch a fearful joy.

And bees their honey redolent of spring.
Dryd. Fab. on the Pyth. Phil. from Ovid.



Gay Hope is theirs, by Fancy fed,

Lefs pleafing when poffefs'd;
The tear forgot as on as fhed,
The fun-fhine of the breast.
Theirs buxom Health of rofy hue,
Wild Wit, Invention ever new,
And lively Chear of Vigour born;
The thoughtless day, the easy night,
The fpirits pure, the flumbers light,
That fly th' approach of morn.


Alas! regardless of their doom,

The little victims play!

No fenfe have they of ills to come,

No care beyond to-day.

Yet fee, how all around them wait

The minifters of human fate,


And black Misfortune's baleful train!
Ah, fhow them where in ambush stand,

To feize their prey,

the murderous band!

Ah, fhow them they are men!


Thefe fhall the fury paflions tear,

The vultures of the mind,

Difdainful Anger, pallid Fear,

And Shame, that skulks behind;

Or pining Love, fhall waste their youth;
Or Jealoufy, with wrankling tooth,
That inly gnaws the fecret heart;

And Envy wan, and faded Care,

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