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ADVICE TO A FRIEND.
Gaze not, my friend, on Celia's eye, Where thousand loves in ambush wait; Now, while thou canst, the danger fly, Nor dare, like me, to tempt thy fate.
Those charms I view'd in luckless hour,
So through the air with winged force
ODE TO A YOUNG LADY.
Why thus decline my troubled eyes,
Yet, dawning from my looks distrest
Yet, wooing in the coy expression Of faultering sounds, that half-supprest In sighs ill stifled breathe the rest, Read
ah too dear! the fond confession.
In vain! what these soft tumults show,
If sighs ascend, if blushes glow,
What means the sigh, the blush unbidden.
But hope not ever thus secure
To dart thy wildly-wandering glances:
O, skilled in every graceful art
That adds a polish'd charm to beauty; Be mine those pleasing cates t' impart. Which best refine the gentle heart, Be mine to teach the tender duty!
ODE TO INES DE GUETE.
Dearest, wouldst thou but believe
That faithful heart should truly tell
'Tis not, that cradled in thine eyes The baby Love, for ever lies
On couches dipt in dew,
'Tis not, because those eyes have won Their temper'd light from April's sun, From heav'n-their tints of blue!
'Tis not, that o'er a bank of snow Thy parted tresses lightly flow
In bands of braided gold;
No-dearest, no-but, from my soul,
The cherish'd sweets of rest,
And, ever since, from morn till night,
E'en now, by Fancy's eyes are seen
Yet, dearest, would'st thou but believe
"Twould tell thee thou could'st ne'er impart
More truly bound to thee!
'Twould beg, with a beseeching sigh, One glance from Pity's meaning eye
Its every pang to pay.
"Twould hint, perchance, at happier hours, When Hope may strew her fairy flowers O'er life's bewilder'd way.
Yet, should my days in sorrow flow,
The frowns of Care I'd bravely meet,
FANNY BLOOMING FAIR.
With Fanny blooming fair,
Who still unrival'd reigns,
What virgin can compare,
Come, Cambrian bards, and wave a beauteous
Of sweetest flow'rs,
From Pindus' bow'rs,
For Fanny blooming fair.