Imatges de pàgina
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Fashion with more than BOREAS' rage

A univerfal fnow has shed,

And given the hoary tint of age

To every lovely female's head.

O break thy rival's hated spell,

Kind Nature! that where'er we ramble,

Thy work from COURTOI's we may tell,

And know a Myrtle from a Bramble.

G &

MAD

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ES, yes, my friend, I quit the fond pre

YES,

tence

To cool reflection, and unbiafs'd fenfe;

Your hands have torn away the thin difguife
Which hid my follies from my partial eyes.
Mad fince I am, why fhould conceited pride,
Deny that weaknefs which it cannot hide?

Why blush to own the follies of my mind,

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Who from the paths of Truth and Sense will stray Where Reafon lights, and Virtue guards the way,

After thofe meteors treacherous beams to rove,

Ambition, Avarice, Vanity, or Love.

Nor while the foul contending paffions goad

E'er once regret they left the fafer road,

Proud of their shame, and happy in their woe,
Will foil the fkill of BATTIE and MONRO.

Miftaken CURIO, form'd alone to please

In the calm circle of domestic ease,

Muft quit the placid joys of private life

For public honors won in public ftrife:

No listening Senate's plaufive notes attend

The gay companion, and the faithful friend.

He'll fhew the world combin'd with STANHOPE'S

wit

The flow of TOWNSHEND, and the fire of PITT.

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Now with fuccefs he gets the Election o'er

And gives ST. STEPHEN's one pert blockhead more ;
Pretends with schemes of Wisdom fraught to rife,
Declaims on libels, penfions, and excife,

And, while loud laughter burfts on every fide,
Pours forth his nonfenfe with a patriot pride,
Till mark'd at length by public ridicule

A brainless Coxcomb, and a babbling fool,
To all mankind poor CURIO ftands confefs'd
The fenate's scandal, and the nation's jeft.

Mark

yon

ftary'd wretch who views with eager

eye

The heaps of useless gold that round him lie!

That man when Fortune lefs profufely gave

Enjoy'd her scanty gifts, nor wifh'd to fave,

What fhe bestow'd with chearful hand he spent,

Nor wanted millions while he had content;

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His pleasures leffen as her fmiles increafe,

Till wealth immenfe completely blafts his peace;

Now to himself each comfort he denies

That public care to poverty fupplies,

Lets his drear mansion totter o'er his head,
And 'mid profufion dies for want of bread.

LO SYLVIUS! Once beyond defcription bleft, Calm were his joys, and peaceful was his breaft, His youth he spent remote from Camps and Courts In rural labors, and in rural sports,

High forefts rofe obedient to his hand,

And waving plenty crown'd his fertile land,

With good old Port his focial vaults were ftor'd,

And frequent firloins fmoak'd upon his board.

But ah! when fifty winters fhould have fhed
A wifer influence o'er his hoary head,

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