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To the Memory of an agreeable' LADY

bury'd in Marriage to a Person undeserving her.

'T

WAS always held, and ever will,

By fage mankind, discreeter
T'anticipate a lesser ill

Than undergo a greater,

When mortals dread diseases, pain,

And languishing conditions ;
Who don't the lefser ills sustain

Of physic and physicians ?

Rather than lose his whole estate,

He that but little wise is,
Full gladly pays four parts in eight

To taxes and excifes.

With numerous ills in single life

The batchelor's attended;
Such to avoid, he takes a wife

And much the case is mended.

Poor Gratia, in her twentieth year,

Foreseeing future woe, Chose to attend a monkey here,

Before an ape below:

An

An Elegy, written

on VALENTINE Morning.

By

HAR

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ARK, thro' the facred filence of the night,

Loud Chanticleer doth sound his clarion fhrill, Hailing with song the first pale gleam of light,

That floats the dark brow of yon eastern hill.

Bright star of morn, oh! leave not yet the wave,

To deck the dewy frontiet of the day, Nor thou, Aurora, quit Tithonus' cave,

Nor drive retiring darkness yet away,

Ere these my rustic hands a garland twine,

Ere yet my tongue indite a simple fong, For her I mean to hail my Valentine,

Sweet maiden, fairest of the virgin throng.

Sweet is the morn, and sweet the gentle breeze

That fans the fragrant bofom of the spring, Sweet chirps the lark, and sweeter far than these

The gentle love-song gurgling turtles fing.

Oh let the flowers be fragrant as the morn,

And as the turtle's fong my ditty sweet : Those flowers my woven chaplet must adorn,

That ditty muft my waking charmer greet.

And

And choo, bleft saint, whom choral creatures join

In one enlivening fymphony to hail, Oh be propitious, gentle Valentine,

And let each holy tender figh prevail.

Oh give me to approach my fleeping love,

And strew her pillow with the freshest flowers, No figh unhallow'd shall my bofom move,

Nor step prophame pollute my true love's bowers.

At facred distance only will I gaze,

Nor bid my unreproved eye refrain, Mean while my tongue fhall chauut her beauty's praise,

And hail her sleeping with the gentleft strain.

“ Awake my fair, awake, for it is time;

Hark, thousand songsters rise from yonder grove, And rising carol this sweet hour of prime,

Each to his mate, a roundelay of love.

All nature sings the hymeneal song,

All nature follows, where the spring invites ; Come forth my love, to us thefe joys belong,

Ours is the spring, and all her young delights.

For us she throws profusely forth her flowers,

Which in fresh chaplets joyful I will twine; Come forth my fair, oh do not lose these hours,

But wake, and be my faithful Valentine.

Foll

Full many an hour, all lonely have I figh'd,
Nor dared the secret of

my

love reveal, Full many a fond expedient have I tried

My warmest wish in filence to conceal.

And oft to far retired folitude

All mournfully my flow step have I bent, Luxurious there indulg'd my mysing mood,

And there alone have given my sorrows vent.

This day resolv'd I dare to plight my vow,

This day, long since the feast of love decreed, Embolden’d will I speak my flame, nor thou

Refuse to hear how fore my heart does bleed."

Yet if I should behold my love awake,

Ah frail resolves, ah whither will ye fly? Full well I know I shall not filence break,

But struck with awe almoft for fear shall die.

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Oh no, I will not trust a fault'ring speech

In broken phrase an aukward tale to tell,
A tale, whose tenderness no tongue can reach,

Nor foftest melody can utter well.

my meek

But

eye,

beft herald to my heart, I will compofe to soft and downcast look, And at one humble glance it shall impart

My love, nor fear the language be mistook.

For

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