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ON A YOUNG LADY'S BIRTH DAY.

THE twenty-fecond day of May,

Is little Fanny's natal day;
Pretty warblers, of the wood,
Quit awhile your callow brood.
Gayly prune each gaudy wing,
Each a merry carol bring,
To commemorate the morn,
When my little maid was born.

Come Aurora! bring thy hours,
All array'd in May-morn flowers;
Ev'ry hour fhall wear a smile,
Little troubles to beguile;
Airy phantoms! lightly tread,
O'er the cowflip's glittering head,
O'er the cup of golden hue,
Fill'd this morn with filver dew,
By kind nature fill'd for you;
Let each little fairy lip,
Of the pearly dew-drop fip,
Nature pours out all her wealth,

Drink to her's and Fanny's health;
She I'm fure will not refufe,

Gratefully thofe gifts to use.

Oh Innocence! protect her youth,
Lead her down the paths of truth,
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Culling

Culling fweets from every flower,
Truth has twin'd round virtue's bower,
There to dwell with fweet content,
Virtue's conftant refident.

Sweets too redolent will cloy;
Prudence mildly tempers joy;

Thorns may grow tho' fweets are near,

Pity oft will have her tear;

Tears will fart howe'er confin'd

From a feeling generous mind.

Idlenefs for ever meets,

Bitter in its cup of sweets;
Let her not recline her head,
Long on Pleasure's rofy bed;
Pleasure does itself destroy,
Be improvement then her toy,
Doing right her greatest joy.
Mindful of her parent's nod,
And her duty to her God;
Tell her to the good and wife,

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ON BREAKING A CHINA QUART MUG,

BELONGING TO THE SOCIETY OF LINCOLN COLLEGE,

OXFORD.

BY AN UNDER GRADUATE.

WHENE'ER the cruel hand of death
Untimely ftops a fav'rite's breath,
Mufes in plaintive numbers tell

How lov'd he liv'd-how mourn'd he fell,
Catullus 'wail'd his fparrow's fate,

And Gray immortaliz'd his cat.

Thrice tuneful bards! could I but chime fo clever,
My Quart, my honeft Quart, fhould live for ever.

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How weak is all a mortal's pow'r,
T'avert the death-devoted hour!
Nor can a shape or beauty fave
From the fure conquest of the grave.
In vain the butler's choiceft care,
The mafter's wifh, the burfer's pray'r!

For when life's lengthen'd to its longest fpan,
China itself muft fall, as well as man.

Can I forget how oft' my Quart

Has footh'd my care and warm'd my
When barley lent its balmy aid,
And all its liquid charms difplay'd!
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heart?

When

When orange and the nut-brown toast

Swam mantling round the fpicy coaft!

The pleafing depth I view'd with sparkling eyes,
Nor envy'd Jove the nectar of the skies.

The fide-board, on that fatal day,
When you in glitt'ring ruins lay,
Mourn'd at thy lofs-in guggling tone,
Decanters poured out their moan-
A dimnefs hung on ev'ry glass-

Joe wonder'd what the matter was-
Corks felf-contracted free'd the frantic beer,
And fympathizing tankards dropt a tear.

Where are the flow'ry wreaths that bound
In rofy rings thy chaplets round?
The azure stars whofe glitt'ring rays
Promis'd a happier length of days!
The trees that on thy border grew,
And bloffom'd with eternal blue !

Trees, ftars and flow'rs are fcatter'd on the floor,
And all thy brittle beauties are no more,—

Hadft thou been form'd of coarfer earth,
Had Nottingham but giv'n thee birth!
Or had thy variegated fide

Of Stafford's fable hue been dy'd,

*The College Butler.

Thy

Thy ftately fabric had been found,
Tho' tables tumbl'd on the ground.-
The finest mould the fooneft will decay;
Hear this, ye fair, for you yourselves are clay!

ODE TO PITY.

HAIL lovely pow'r! whose bofom heaves the figh
When Fancy paints the scene of deep distress;
Whofe tears fpontaneous chryftalize the eye,
When rigid Fate denies the power to bless.

Not all the sweets Arabia's gales convey
From flow'ry meads, can with that figh compare ;
Not dew-drops glitt'ting in the morning ray,
Seem half fo beauteous as that falling tear.

Devoid of fear, the fawns around thee play;
Emblem of peace, the dove before thee flies;
No blood-ftain'd traces mark thy guiltless way,
Beneath thy feet no hapless infect dies..

Come, lovely pow'r! and range the meads with me,
To fpring the patridge from the guileful foe ;
From ftrenght'ning fnares the struggling bird to free,
And flop the hand prepar'd to give the blow.

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