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Yet these I leave as thoughtless as a lark;
These lures I straight forget,-e'en ere I dine, Or thrice my palate moisten : but when I mark
Such charms with mild intelligences shine, My ear is open like a greedy shark,
To catch the tunings of a voice divine.
Ah! who can e'er forget so fair a being?
Who can forget her half retiring sweets ?
God! she is like a milk-white lamb that bleats For man's protection. Surely the All-seeing, Who joys to see us with his gifts agreeing,
Will never give him pinions, who intreats
Such innocence to ruin, who vilely cheats
A lay that once I saw her hand awake,
Had I e'er seen her from an arbour take A dewy flower, oft would that hand appear,
And o'er my eyes the trembling moisture shake.
Among the rest a shepheard (though but young “Yet hartned to his pipe) with all the skill His few yeeres could, began to fit his quill.”
Britannia's Pastorals.- BROWNE.
GEORGE FELTON MATHEW.
Sweet are the pleasures that to verse belong,
Too partial friend ! fain would I follow thee