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Spurn my too officious Duty,

Self-enamour'd of thy Beauty;

And close thy ftern, inexorable Heart, Slighting the Vow fincere, which wants the Glofs of Art.

IX.

Hence, idle Fears-thou ftill art kind;

Low at thy Footstool bends my trembling Knee;
I fue, O Goddefs, and I fue to thee,

To thy Behefts refign'd.

No rejected Votary's moans

Taint the Air with feverish Groans.

Where we reft, thy Charms enjoying,
Ever tafted, never cloying,

Widely thou pour'ft thy all-diffufive Rays,

Inftant our kindling Souls with Fire congenial blaze. X.

In Rhedycina's favour'd Seat,

Where richest Verse thy fmould'ring Altar feeds,
With him fome chofen Sage obedient leads,

To give Thee Homage meet.

Falfe Surmifes, hidden Flaws,

Old Grammarians crabbed Laws;

At thy Impulfe while elated,

By thy Pleasure he unfated,

With his fell Pen from thy Tribunal bends,

As on the mangled Lines the frequent Blot defcends.

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XI.

When Autumn brought the lowering Year,. Fair Ifis mingled with Britannia's Woe;

Meanwhile thou taught'ft her Claffic Plains to flow O'er George's Grief-ftain'd Bier.

How the mourn'd the Monarch dead,

Father of his Country fled,
Ill befits my trite Narration-

I in lefs exalted Station,

Stupidly nod o'er Poefy fo fine,

Stretch'd on the lifeless Couch of Indolence fupine.

XII.

That Part to Thee' we confecrate

Of the huge Wreath forfooth, which all the Nine,
With Skill united have confpir'd to twine.*
A Fricaffee of State!

"Twould make a Breakfast for a King;
Or fhould he feast on no fuch Thing

As See-faw Flattery, and his Spirit

Be coolly touch'd with fo much Merit;

* Alluding to the following Lines in the concluding Copy of the OXFORD VERSES abovementioned, written by the Poetry Profeffor.

deign to view

This ample Wreath, which all th' affembled Nine

With Skill united have confpir'd to twine.

If

If he endure the Song with Look finifter, The Plan will fuit at leaft a Patriot-Minister.

XIII.

Full many a Youth, whofe opening Shoot Teem'd with Poetic Foliage, o'er whofe Head Caftalian Dews the gracious Muse has shed, And promis'd riper Fruit;

Such the firm Decrees of Fate,

Such the Shortnefs of his Date,
With the Troop of Phantoms namelef,
In that pious Volume fameless,

Where the triumphant Clouds of Smoke afpire,
Sinks in Oblivion's Arms on the funereal Pyre.

XIV.

Far from the Terrors of thy Reign, Curb'd by thy Frown, audacious Genius flies; Or, if he impotently dares to rise,

Is levell'd to the Plain:

Nought avils his magic Art

To avert thy vengeful Dart;

And his infolent emprifing;

Thou his vaunting Pow'r despifing,

Eager his blafted Glories to confound,

Strik'ft him a breathlefs Corfe, unpitying, to the Ground.

When

XV.

When Swinging Slow with Sweepy Sway,
In one fame conftant Tenor run our Rhimes,
Like the sweet Musick of unvaried Chimes,
In diftant due Delay;

Then our Vows thou deign'ft to hear,
With a condescending Ear.

Aid, O Goddefs, aid my Numbers,

Let me Share thy Sweeteft Slumbers,

While from this Quill, as all along I doze, In Apathy discreet the Stumbling Stanza flows.

See WARTON's Pleasures of Melancholy, a Poem.

An

A Poetical EPISTLE

To ***** *******, M. A. Student of Chrift Church.

By the Same.

Mufe,

Un Ufage inconftant t'entraine,

Et la Raifon toujours certaine

Ne t'a point marqué tes Sentiers?

Mais, non, je ne veux point le croire;

Le Reproche offense ta Gloire;

Et fletriroit tous nos Lauriers. LA MOTTE.

N Thames's Banks, while you with happier Care,

ON

In bolder Notes invite the Aonian Fair;

Or nobly point, to guide the rifing Youth,
The steep Ascent which scales the Hill of Truth,
With Learning pure Morality impart,
Strengthen the Head, and humanize the Heart;
Shall fond Prefumption daringly intrude
To grate your polish'd Ear with Accents rude?
Since you, fome leisure Moments to beguile,
Regard my Idleneffes with a Smile;

No fervile Cuftom's narrow Laws revere,
Pleas'd with the Language of a Tongue fincere,

Accept

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