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Thou living image of those charms we loft,
Charms, which exulting nature once might boaft!
Indulge the plaintive Muse, whofe fimple strain
Repeats the heart-felt anguish of the swain:
For Stella's fate thus flow'd his tuneful moan,
Love, Beauty, Virtue, mourn your darling gone!

Are happiness and joy for ever fled,

Nor haunt the twilight grove, nor funny glade?
Ah! fled for ever from my longing eye;
With Stella born, with Stella too they die:
Die, or with me your brightest image moan:
Love, Beauty, Virtue, mourn your darling gone!

:

Sweet to the thirty tongue the crystal stream,
To nightly wand'rers fweet the morning beam:
Sweet to the wither'd grafs the gentle fhow'r;
To the fond lover fweet the nuptial hour;
Sweet fragrant gardens to the lab ring bee,
And lovely Stella once was heav'n to me:
That heav'n is faded, and those joys are flown,
Love, Beauty, Virtue, mourn your darling gone!

Ah! where is now that form which charm'd my fight?
Ah! where that wifdom, fparkling heav'nly bright?
Ah! where that fweetnels like the lays of (pring,
When breathe its flow'rs, and all its warblers fing?
Now fade, ye flowers! ye warblers, join my moan!
Love, Beauty, Virtue, mourn your darling gone!

Ah me! though winter desolate the field,
Again fhall flow'rs the blended odours yield;
Again fhall birds the vernal feason hail,

And beauty paint, and music charm the vale a

But the no more to blefs me fhall appear;
No more her angel voice enchant my ear;
No more her angel fmile relieve my moan:
Love, Beauty, Virtue, mourn your darling gone!

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He ceas'd; for mighty grief his voice fuppreft,
Chill'd all his veins, and struggled in his breast;
From his wan cheek the rofy tincture flies
The luftre languifh'd in his clofing eyes:
Too foon fhall life return, unhappy fwain!
If, with returning fenfe, returns thy pain.
Hills, woods and ftreams, refound the fhepherd's

moan,

Love, Beauty, Virtue, mourn your darling gone!

AN EPITAPH.

IF e'er fharp forrow from thine eyes did flow,
If e'er thy bofom felt another's woe,

If e'er fair beauty's charms thy heart did prove,
If e'er the offspring of thy virtuous love
Bloom'd to thy with, or to thy foul was dear,
This plaintive marble afks thee for a tear!
For here, alas! too early fnatch'd away,
All that was lovely, Death has made his prey.
No more her cheeks with crimson roses vie,
No more the diamond sparkles in her eye;

Her breath no more its balmy sweets can boast,
Alas! that breath with all its fweets are loft,
Pale now thofe lips where blufhing rubies hung,
And mute the charming mufic of her tongue;
Ye virgins fair, your fading charms furvey,
She was whate'er your tender hearts can say.
To her sweet memory, for ever dear,

Let the green turf receive your trickling tear:
To this fad place your earlieft garlands bring,
And deck her grave with firftlings of the spring:
Let opening roles, drooping lilies tell,

Like thofe the bloom'd, and ah! like those she fell.
In circling wreaths let the pale ivy grow,
And diftant yews a fable fhade beftow;
Round her, ye Graces! conftant vigils keep,
And guard, fair Innocence! her facred fleep:
Till that bright morn fhall wake the beauteous clay,
To bloom and sparkle in eternal day.

CONTENT.

A VISION.

BY DR. COTTON.

MAN is deceiv'd by outward show→→→

'Tis a plain home-fpun truth I know!
The fraud prevails at ev'ry age,
So fays the fchool-boy and the fage!
Yet ftill we hug the dear deceit,
And ftill exclaim against the cheat.
But whence this inconfiftent part,
Say, moralifts, who know the heart?
If you'il this labyrinth pursue,
I'll go before, and find the clue.

I dreamt ('twas on a birth-day night)
A fumptuous palace rose to fight :
The builder had through ev'ry part
Obferv'd the chafteft rules of art;
Raphael and Titian had difplay'd
All the full force of light and fhade:
Around the livery'd fervants wait;
An aged porter at the gate.

As I was traversing the hall,
Where Bruffels' looms adorn'd the wall,

(Whofe tap'ftry fhews, without my aid,
A nun is no fuch useless maid)
A graceful perfon came in view,

(His form, it feems, is known to few)
His dress was unadorn'd with lace,
But charms! a thousand in his face.

1

This, Sir, your property? I cry'd—
Mafter and manfion coincide,
Where all, indeed, is truly great,

And proves that blifs may dwell with ftate,
Pray, Sir, indulge a stranger's claim,
And grant the favour of your name.

Content, the lovely form reply'd;
But think not here that I refide;
Here lives a courtier, bafe and fly;
An open, honeft ruftic, I:

Our tafte and manners disagree,
His levee boafts no charms for mea
For titles, and the fmiles of kings,
To me are cheap unheeded things.
(Tis virtue can alone impart
The patent of a ducal heart:
Unless this herald speaks him great,
What shall avail the glare of fate?)
Thofe fecret charms are my delight,
Which fhine remote from public fight:
Paffions fubdu'd, defires at rest-
And hence his chaplain fhares my breast.

There was a time (his Grace can tell)
I knew the Duke exceeding well;

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