Heav'ns! how his bosom burn'd to dare Such was the hope, the barbarous joy, I'd rather see thee smile quilt Grimly on war's embattled file, I'd rather see thee wield in strifes turpe 1 roll The German butcher's reckless knife, Thinking thy claims to manhood grow #F'. From each pale corse that bleeds below; I'd rather view thee thus, than see A modern blockhead rise in thee. di, daca o my T met alun vuola ST Is it a study for a Peera joeto o To breathe soft vows in lady's ear, To choose a coat or leap a gate, mét To win an heiress-or a plate? D'asidy 950 (ni valori ovíť Far nobler studies shall be thineɔgo sit So Friendship and the Muse divine: RELEA It shall be yours, in danger's hour, in danger's hour, il bundsd To guide the helm of British power 10 sood A And 'midst thy country's laurell'd crown' power, To mix a garland all thine own. T Julio, from this auspicious day, New honours gild thine onward way; A heart to faith and feeling true, And Fame her choicest wreaths shall blend, For Virtue's, and the poor man's friend,esi ma PREPARING, FOR HER FIRST SEASON IN TOWN. T JULIA, while London's fancied bliss, Bids you despise a life like this, any tull While and its joys you leave, For hopes, that flatter to deceive, on mediati You will not scornfully refuse, (Though dull the theme, and weak the Muse,) To look upon my line, and hear What Friendship sends to Beauty's ear. Y Where dusty ivy strives to crawl contra Five inches up the whiten'd wall. The open window, thickly set With myrtle, and with mignionette, A brace of globes peep out for show, "Twas here, in earlier, happier days, every sport that Mirth devised, Those friends have mingled in the strife That fills the busy scene of life, And Pride and Folly-Cares and Fears, Look dark upon their future years : But by their wrecks may Julia learn, Whither her fragile bark to turn ; And, o'er the troubled sea of fate, Avoid the rocks they found too late. You know Camilla-o'er the plain She guides the fiery hunter's rein; First in the chase she sounds the horn, Trampling to earth the farmer's corn, That hardly deign'd to bend its head, Beneath her namesake's lighter tread. With Bob the Squire, her polish'd lover, She wields the gun, or beats the cover; And then her steed! why! every clown Tells how she rubs Smolensko down, And combs the mane, and cleans the hoof, While wondering hostlers stand aloof. At night, before the Christmas fire She plays backgammon with the Squire; Shares in his laugh, and in his liquor, The dogs all still the Squire asleep, And this is bliss-the story runs, Pretty Cardelia thinks she's ill She seeks her med'cine at Quadrille ; Upon a diamond, or a spade. Blighting the soil where Beauty grew, Turn we to Fannia-she was fair As the soft fleeting forms of air, Shap'd by the fancy,-fitting theme Her lip has lost its fragrant dew, Her cheek has lost its rosy hue, Her eye the glad enlivening rays That glitter'd there in happier days, Her heart the ignorance of woe Which Fashion's votaries may not know. The city's smoke-the noxious airThe constant crowd-the torch's glareThe morning sleep-the noonday callThe late repast-the midnight ball, Bid Faith and Beauty die, and taint Her heart with fraud, her face with paint. And what the boon, the prize enjoy'd, For fame defac'd, and peace destroy'd! Why ask we this? With conscious grace She criticises silk and lace; Queen of the modes, she reigns alike |