With my wild gambols pleas'd, can you forget "How oft the fleeting hour you've fmil'd away ? Kifs'd me, and call'd me your nown little Pet,

And vow'd my breath was sweet as new-mown hay.

Have you forgot how oft-times by your fide, "Fearless along the plain I joyous sped?

"Have you forgot with what a conscious pride

"I baa'd, whene'er you patted Willy's head?

When Cupid bark'd, with envy ftung and fpite,
"To you I ran to fave me from my foe;
You, inftant, banifh'd Cupid from your fight,
"And kiffing, call'd me your sweet Willio.

"On your lov'd knee, my head I oft have laid,
"Proud from your hand to take my tasteful food
Favours from others were in vain display'd,
"No sweet, fave from your hand, I counted good.

"At morn, when from your bed undress'd you sprung,
"Have you not clasp'd me in your snowy arms?
While I, all rapture, lick'd you with my tongue,
"Nor once difclos'd the secret of your charms.

Let Innocence and Love for Mercy plead;
"For Mercy on my marrow-bones I fall ;
Tho' fome few errors to my share's decreed,
"Look in my face, and you'll forget them all.

Can

* Can black Revenge lodge in fo fair a breast?

"Can fuch a trifle warp an angel's mind? "How muft each fighing Lover prove distrest,

"To find fuch fickleness and beauty join'd!

"Bak'd in my blood-convuls'd in every part, "Quiv'ring in death cou'd you poor Willy view? And from my breast torn forth my little heart, "That heart whofe latest throbbings beat for you.

Cou'd you behold my mangled carcafe rife,

"Smoaking upon your board to tempt the tafte; "The tear, I'm fure, wou'd ftrait empearl your eyes; "You cou'd not on your murder'd Willy feast.

If I must die-Oh, grant this last request, "Let form of gloves my little lamb-fkin grace? Then fhall poor Willy e'en in death be bleft, "To think your dear-lov'd arms he shall embrace.

And from the wool that curls o'er Willy's fkin, "Wou'd you two fnowy, pofied garters make ; "This favour too, dear lady, let me win,

"Wear 'em, ah, wear 'em for poor Willy's fake.

"Each day and night when these remains appear,
Shou'd to your mem'ry rife my hapless fhade,
And your relenting heart give one kind tear,
My fuff'rings will be more than overpaid.

"But

But fee---the murd'rer whets his bloody knife,

66

Eager he grins, as ready for the blow:---If nothing can atone but Willy's life,\

"Ah, let my lady's hand the stroke bestow."

Diftant, and deaf to Willy's plaintive moan,

Madam, enchamber'd o'er her ruffle stood;

The butcher plung'd his knife ;—and with a groan Poor Willy's life came rushing in a flood.

THE TWIN-SISTERS.

FAIR Chastity of lilly hue,

And Modefty like blushing rofe
New blown and fteep'd in morning dew,
In Clara happily repofe.

All-graceful o'er the Fair One's cheeks,
The emblem lilly fhines reveal'd,
While Modesty retirement feeks.
In beds of rofes deep conceal'd.

With brazen front loud Impudence,
(Of empty Noise and Folly sprung)
From his foul battery of Offence,

Planted on Wit-woud's Magpye-Tongue,

Attacks fair Chastity-in phrase

Thro' which the coxcomb fully glares;

Such phrase the coward foul betrays,
When aim'd at helpless Maidens' ears.

Poor

Poor Chastity alarm'd, for aid

Strait calls upon her Twin-born friend;
With rofy enfigns quick display'd,

Her Sister's blushing powers attend.

United, they confound the foe;

They come, they fee, they overcome
They hurl, like lightning, overthrow,

And ftrike (amazement!) Wit-wou'd dumb..

In chains their captive they confine,

And to th' applauding world proclaim,

The rude invader they confign

To the opprobrious cave of Shame.

THE FOLLOWING

ODE TO THE GLOW-WORM,

EY PETER PINDAR,

Is one of the most beautiful gems of English Poetry; has charming imagery, and fine moral grace.

BRIGHT ftranger, welcome to my field,
Here feed in fafety, here thy radiance yield;

To me, oh, nightly be thy fplendor giv❜n:
Oh! could a wish of mine the fkies command,
How would I gem thy leaf, with lib'ral hand,
With every fweeteft dew of heav'n!

*Alluding to Cæfar's Veni, Vidi, Vici.
P

Say

Say doft thou kindly light the fairy train,
Amidft their gambols on the ftilly plain,
Hanging the lamp upon the moisten'd blade?
What lamp so fit, fo pure as thine,
Amidst the gentle elfin band to fhine,

And chace the horrors of the midnight-shade!

Oh! may no feather'd foe disturb thy bow'r,
And with barbarian beak thy life devour:

Oh! may no ruthless torrent of the sky,
O'erwhelming, force thee from thy dewy feat,
Nor tempefts tear thee from thy green retreat,

And bid thee 'midt the humming myriads die.

Queen of the infect world, what leaves delight?

Of fuch thefe willing hands a bow'r shall form, To guard thee from the rushing rains of night, And hide thee from the wild wing of the storm.

Sweet child of ftillnefs, 'midft the awful calm

Of pausing Nature, thou art pleas'd to dwell: In happy filence to enjoy thy balm,

And shed through life a luftre round thy cell.

How diff'rent Man, the imp of noise and strife,
Who courts the ftorm that tears and darkens life;

Bleft when the paffions wild the foul invade!
How nobler far to bid those whirlwinds cease;
To talte, like thee, the luxury of peace,

And fine in folitude and fhade.

ON