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In eager transport frequent breath'd her prayer
The graces of her ancestry to share :
Nor breath'd in vain, her fond maternal guide
Cherish'd with care each spark of virtuous pride ;
And ever as she gave a lesson new,
Would point some old example to her view :
Infam'd by this, her mind was quickly fraught
With each sage precept, that her mother taught.
The goodly dame thus bless'd in her employ,
Felt each soft transport of parental joy,
And liv'd content, her utmost with fulfill'd
In the fair prospect of a virtuous child :
Resign'd she waited now the aweful hour
When death should raise her to that heav'nly bow'r,
Where with her lov'd Aurelius fhe might share
The pleasing talk, to watch with guardian care
Their offspring's fteps, and hov’ring o'er her head,
The gracious dew of heavenly peace to shed;
Nor fear'd her decency of life would prove
An added bliss to all the joys above,




ODE to the Honourable ** **

By the late Mr. F. COVENTRY.

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OW Britain's senate, -far renown'd,

Affembles full an aweful band !
Now Majesty with golden circle crown'd,
Mounts her bright throne, and waves her gracious hand.
“ Ye chiefs of Albion with attention hear,
“ Guard well your liberties, review your laws,

“ Begin, begin th' important year,
“ And boldly speak in Freedom's cause."
Then starting from her summer's rest

Glad Eloquence unbinds her tongue.
She feels rekindling raptures wake her breaft,
And pours the facred energy along.
'Twas here great Hampden's patriot voice was heard,
Here Pym, Kimbolton fir'd the British soul,

When Pow'r her arm despotic rear'd
But felt a senate's great controul.
'Twas here the pond'ring worthies sat,

Who fix'd the crown on William's head,
When awe-struck tyranny renounc'd the state,
And bigot JAMES his injur'd kingdoms fled.

Thee, 3

Thee, generous youth, whom naturé, birth adorn,
The Muse selects from yon assembled throng:

O thou to serve thy country born,
Tell me, young hero of my song,
Thy genius now in faireft bloom,

And warm with fancy's brightest rays,
Why sleeps thy foul unconscious of its doom?
Why idly feet thy unapplauded days ?
Thy country beckons thce with lifted hand,
Arise, she calls, awake thy latent flame,

Arise, 'tis England's high command,
And snatch the ready wreaths of fame.
Be this thy paflion; greatly dare

A people's jarring wills to sway,
With curft Corruption wage eternal war,
That where thou goe't, applauding crowds may fay,
“ Lo, that is he, whose fpirit-rüling voice
“ From her wild heights can call Ambition down,

Can still Sedition's brutal noise,
" Or shake a tyrant's purple throne :"
Then chiefs, and faces yet unborn

Shall boast thy thouglits in diítant days,
With thee fair History her leaves adori,
And laurell’d bards proclaim thy lasting praise.

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To Miss ****. By Miss ELISA CARTER.

HE midnight moon serenely smiles

O’er nature's soft repose,
No lowring cloud obscures the kies,

Nor ruffling tempest blows.



Now every passion finks to rest,

The throbbing heart lies still,
And varying schemes of life no more
Distract the labouring will.

III. ,
In silence hush'd, to reason's voice

Attends each mental power ;
Come dear Amanda, and enjoy

Reflection's favourite hour.


Come, while this peaceful scene invites,

Let's search this ample round;
Where shall the lovely fleeting form
Of Happiness be found ?

Does it amidst the frolic mirth

assemblies dwell ?
Or hide beneath the solemn gloom

That shades the hermit's cell ?

VI. How

VI. How oft the laughing brow of joy

A fick’ning heart conceals, And thro' the cloister's deep recess Invading sorrow steals.

In vain thro' beauty, fortune, wit,

The fugitive we trace !
It dwells not in the faithless smile
That brightens Clodio's face.

VIII. Howe'er our varying notions rove,

All yet agree, in one,
To place its being in some state,
At distance from our own.

o blind to each indulgent gift

Of power, supremely wise, Who fancy happiness in aught That Providence denies.

X. Vain is alike the joy we seek,

And vain what we possess, Unless harmonious reason tunes The paffions into peace.

To temp'rate bounds, to few desires,

Is happiness confin'd,
And deaf to folly's noise attends

The music of the mind.

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