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The clouds are now scatter'd—the winds are at peace;
The sheep to his pasture inclined:
My friend, who the thicket of law never try'd,
Consider before you get in; Though judgment and sentence are pass'd on your side,
By Jove you'll be fleeced to your skin.
—— . .'*
Verses by the Author,
"Tis true, the reproof, though severe,
Is just, from the letters I owe; But blameless I still may appear,
For nonsense is all I bestow.
However for better for worse,'
Even take the dull lines I rehearse—
The drama and I have shook hands,
My sunshine of youth is no more!
Dependant at length on the man
I conquer my pride as I can—
His bounty proceeds from his heart;
"Tis principle prompts the supply— His kindness exceeds my desert,
And often suppresse^a sigh.
But like the old horse in the song,
I am turn'd on the common to grazeTo fortune these changes belong, And contented I. yield to her ways!
if *r*. She ne'er was my friend; through the day.
Her smiles were the smiles of deceit— At noon she'd her favours display,
At night let me pine at her feet:
No longer her presence I court,
Her whimsies supply me with sport—
Thus lost to each worldly desire,
I quietly hope to retire
I have nothing to weep for behind!
To part With my friends is the worst! Their numbers I grant are confined; |( But you are still one of the^first.
This Author was an Actor at Drury-Lane Theatre, under the assumed name of Love. He was the son of the City Architect, and published a small volume of poems printed ■t Edinburgh, in 1754.
When Timtvand gently cj^jeping age
With one dear female, and one friend,
Janus commends me to my face,
By this confest a judging youth,