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Nor pointed spear, nor links of steel,
Could e'er those gallant minds subdue,
And boast the fetters wrought by jou.
O, tuneful bird, that glad'st the skies,
To Daphne's window speed thy way; And there on quivering pinions rise,
And there thy vocal art display. And if she deign thy riotes to hear,
And if she praise thy matin song, Tell her the sounds that foothe her ear,
To Damon's native plains belong. Tell her, in livelier plumes array’d, The bird from Indian groves may
shine ei But ask the lovely partial maid,
What are his notes compar'd to thine ?
And all his flaunting race with scorn ;
S O N G V.
Optarim, quam te fic quoque velle putem.
ON every tree; in every plain,
I trace the jovial spring in vain!
Nor Aow'ry plain, nor budding tree,
from death shall court repose,
YES; Fulvia is like Venus fair ;
Has all her bloom, and shape and air :
Her train was form'd of smiles of loves
The Rape of the TRAP, a BALLAD; written
at College, 1736. By the Same.
WAS in a land of learning,
gave them consternation!
All in a college-study,
Where books were in great plenty,
Than I could write in twenty.
His breakfast, half the morning,
He constantly attended;
His dinner scarce was ended.
Huge tomes of geo-graphy,
And maps lay all in flutter;
And a kingdom-bread and butter.
A trap in haste and anger,
Was bought, you need not doubt on't;
He could not, I think, get out on't.