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8.

Poor Little! sweet, melodious bard!
Of late estcem'd it monstrous hard,

That he, who sang before all;
He who the love of love expanded,
By dire Reviewers should be branded,

As void of wit and moral (1),

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And yet, while beauty’s praise is thine,
Harmonious favourite of the Nine!

Repine not at thy lot; :
Thy soothing lays may still be read,
When Persecution's arm is dead,

And critics are forgot.

10.

Still, I must yield those worthies merit,
Who chasten, with unsparing spirit,

Bad rhymes, and those who write them;
And though myself may be the next,
By critic sarcasm to be vext,

I really will not fight them (2);

(1) These stanzas were written soon after the appeare ance of a severe critique in a Northern review, on a new publication of the British Anacreon.

(2) A Bard , ( Horresco referens, ) defied his reviewer to mortal combat. If this example becomes prevalent, our periodical censors must be dipt in the river Styx; for what else can secure them from the numerous host of their enwged assailants.

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Perhaps, they would do quite as well,
To break the rudely sounding shell

Of such a young beginner ;
He who offends at pert nineteen,
Ere thirty may become, I ween,

A very harden'd sinner.

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Now-_I must return to you,
And sure apologies are due,

Accept then my concession;
In truth, dear---, in fancy's flight,
I soar along from left to right,

My Muse admires digression.

13.

I think, I said, 'twould be your fate
To add one star to royal state,

May regal smiles attend you;
And should a noble Monarch reign,
You will not seek his smiles in vain,

If worth can recommend you.

14. Yet, since in danger courts abound, Where specious rivals glitter round,

From snares may saints preserve you; And grant, your love or friendsip ne'er From any claim a kindred care,

But those who best deserve you.

15.

Not for a moment may you stray
From Truth's secure unerring way,

May no delights decoy;
O’er roses may your footsteps move,
Your smiles be ever smiles of love,

Your tears be tears of joy.

16.

Oh! if you wish that happiness
Your coming days and years may bless ;

And virtues crown your brow :
Be, still, as you were wont to be,
Spotless as you've been known to me,

Be, still, as you are now.

17.

And though some trifling share of praise, To cheer my last declining days,

To me were doubly dear; Whilst blessing your beloved name, . I'd wave at once a Poet's fame,

To prove a Prophet here.

GRANTA,

A MEDLEY.

Αργυρεαις λογχαισι μαχου και παντα Κρατησεις.

1.
On! could Le Sage's (1) demon's gift

Be realiz’d at my desire;
This night my trembling forun he'd lift,

To place it on St. Mary's spire.

2.

Then would, unroof'd, old Granta's halls

Pedantic inınates full display; Fellows, who dream on lawn, or stalls,

The price of venal yotes to pay.

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Then would I view each rival wight,

P—ily and P-m-smp survey;
Who canvass there, with all their might,

Against the next elective day.

4.

Lo! candidates and voters lie ,

All lull’d in sleep, a goodly number! A race renown'd for piety,

Whose conscience wont disturb their slumber.

(1) The Diable Boiteux of Lr. Sage, where Asmodeus, the Demon, places Don Cleofas on an elevated situation, and unroofs the houses for his inspection.

5.

Lord H---, indeed, may not demur,

Fellows are sage, reflecting men; They know preferment can occur,

But very seldom, now and then.

They know the Chancellor has got

Some pretty livings in disposal; Each hopes that one may be his lot,

And, therefore, smiles on his proposal.

Now, from the soporific scene,

I'll turn mine eye, as night grows later, To view, unheeded, and unseen,

The studious sous of Alma Mater.

There, in apartments small and damp,

The candidate for college prizes, Sits poring by the midnight lamp,

Goes late to bed, yet early rises.

9.

He, surely, well deserves to gain them,

With all the honours of his college, Who striving hardly to obtain thein,

Thus seeks unprofitable knowledge.

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