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COME follow, follow me,
Ye fairy elves that be,

Light tripping o'er the green;
Come follow MAB your queen:
Hand in hand we'll dance around,
For this place is fairy ground.

When mortals are at reft,
And fnoring in their nest,
Unheard and unespied,

Through key-holes we do glide;
Over tables, ftools, and shelves,
We trip it with our fairy elves.
And if the house be foul,
With platter, dish, or bowl,
Up ftairs we nimbly creep,
And find the fluts afleep;
Then we pinch their arms and thighs;
None us hears, and none us fpies.

But if the house be swept,
And from uncleannefs kept,
We praise the houfhold maid,
And duly fhe is paid:

Every night before we go,
We drop a tefter in her shoe.

Then o'er a mushroom's head
Our table-cloth we spread;
A grain of rye or wheat,
The diet that we eat;
Pearly drops of dew we drink,
In acorn-cups fill'd to the brink.
The brains of nightingales,
With unctuous fat of Inails,
Between two cockles ftew'd,
Is meat that's eas'ly chew'd;

Tails of worms, and marrow of mice,
Do make a difh that's wond'rous nice.
The grafshopper, gnat, and fly,
Serve for our minfirelfy;

Grace faid, we dance awhile,
And fo the time beguile:
And if the moon doth hide her head,
The glow-worm lights us home to bed.

O'er tops of dewy grafs
So nimbly we do país,
The young and tender stalk

Ne'er bends when we do walk;
Yet in the morning may be seen
Where we the night before have been.


THE wind was high, the window shakes,
With fudden ftart the MISER wakes;

Along the filent room he stalks,

Looks back, and trembles as he walks:
Each lock and ev'ry bolt he trys,
In ev'ry creek and corner prys,
Then opes the cheft with treasure stor'd,
And ftands in rapture o'er his hoard.
But now, with fudden qualms poffeft,
He wrings his hands, he beats his breast;
By confcience ftung, he wildly stares,
And thus his guilty foul declares:

"Had the deep earth her ftores confin'd, "This heart had known fweet peace of mind. “But VIRTUE's fold. Good gods! what price "Can recompenfe the pangs of VICE? "O bane of good! feducing cheat!

"Can man, weak man, thy pow'r defeat › "GOLD banifh'd HONOUR from the mind, And only left the name behind;

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"GOLD fow'd the world with ev'ry ill; "GOLD taught the murd'rer's fword to kill: ""Twas GOLD inftructed coward hearts "IN TREACH'RY's more pernicious arts. "Who can recount the mifchiefs o'er? "VIRTUE refides on Earth no more!" He fpoke, and figh'd. In angry mood PLUTUS, his god, before him stood. The MISER, trembling, lock'd his cheft: The vition frown'd, and thus addrefs'd: Whence is this vile ungrateful rant, Each fordid rafcal's daily cant? Did I, bafe wretch! corrupt mankind? The fault's in thy rapac'ous mind. Because my bleffings are abus'd, Muft I be cenfur'd, curs'd, accus'd? Ev'n VIRTUE's felf by knaves is made A cloak to carry on the trade;

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And pow'r (when lodg'd in their poffeffion) Grows tyranny and rank oppreffion.

Thus, when the villain crams his cheft,

GOLD is the canker of the breaft;

"Tis AV'RICE, INSOLENCE, and PRIDE, And ev'ry fhocking vice befide:

But when to virt'ous hands 'tis giv'n, It bleffes, like the dews of heav'n: 'Like heav'n it hears the ORPHAN's cries, And wipes the tears from WIDOW's eyes. Their CRIMES on GOLD fhall MISERS lay, 'Who pawn'd their fordid fouls for pay? 'Let BRAVOES, then, when blood is spilt, Upbraid the paffive swORD with guilt.'

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HERE lies the body of SARAH SEXTON,
Who, as a wife, did never vex one;
We can't fay that for her at th' next-ftone.


ALL are but parts of one ftupendous whole,
Whose body nature is, and God the foul;
That chang'd thro' all, and yet in all the fame,
Great in the earth, as in the ethereal frame;
Warms in the fun, refreshes in the breeze,
Glows in the ftars, and bloffoms in the trees;
Lives through all life, extends through all extent;
Spreads undivided, operates unfpent;
Breathes in our foul, informs our mortal part,
As full, as perfect, in an hair as heart;
As full, as perfect, in vile man that mourns,
As the rapt feraph that adores and burns:
To him no high, no low, no great, no small;
He fills, he bounds, connects, and equals all.

Cease then, nor order imperfection name:
Our proper blifs, depends on what we blame.
Know thy own point: this kind, this due degree
Of blindnefs, weakness heav'n beftows on thee.
Submit. In this, or any other sphere,
Secure to be as bleft as thou canft bear:
Safe in the hand of one difpofing pow'r,
Or in the natal, or the mortal hour.
All nature is but art, unknown to thee;
All chance, direction, which thou canst not fee;
All difcord, harmony not understood;

All partial evil, univerfal good:

And, fpite of pride, in erring reason's spite,
One truth is clear-WHATEVER IS, IS RIGHT.


THOU, by nature taught

To breathe her genuine thought,

In numbers warmly pure, and fweetly ftrong:
Who firft on mountains wild,

In fancy, lovelieft child,

Thy babe, and pleasure's, nurs'd the pow'rs of fong! L

Thou, who with hermit heart,

Difdain'ft the wealth of art

And gauds, and pageant weeds, and trailing pall: But com'ft a decent maid,

In attic robe array'd,

O chafte, unboastful nymph, to thee I call!

By all the honey'd store,

On Hybla's thymy fhore,

By all her blooms, and mingled murmurs dear,
By her, whofe love-lorn woe,

In ev'ning mufings flow,
Sooth'd sweetly fad Electra's poet's ear:

By old Cephifus deep,
Who fpread his wavy fweep

In warbled wand'rings round thy green retreat,
On whofe enamell'd fide,

When holy FREEDOM dy'd,

No equal haunt allur'd thy future feet.

O fifter meek of TRUTH,
To my admiring youth,

Thy fober aid and native charms infufe!
The flow'rs that sweetest breathe,

Though beauty cull'd the wreath,

Still afk thy hand to range their order'd hués.
While Rome could none efteem,

But virtue's patriot theme,

You lov'd her hills, and led her laureate band; But ftaid to fing alone

To one diftinguish'd throne,

And turn'd thy face, and fled her alter'd land.
Nor more in hall or bow'r,

The paffion's own thy pow'r,
Love, only love, her forcelefs numbers mean:
For thou has left her fhrine,

Nor olive now, nor vine,

Shall gain thy feet to blefs the fervile scene.


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