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That long behind he trails his pompous robe, And, of all monarchs, only grasps the globe?

The Baron now,

his Diamonds pours apace ; Th' embroider'd King who shews but half his face,

[bin'd, And his refulgent Queen, with pow’rs comOf broken troops an easy conquest find. Clubs, Diamonds, Hearts, in wild disorder

seen, With throngs promiscuous strow the level

green, Thus, when dispers’d a routed army runs, Of Asia's troops, and Afric's fable sons, With like confusion different nations fly, Of various habit, and of various dye, The pierc'd battalions disunited fall, In heaps on heaps ; one. fate o’erwhelms

them all.

.

The Knave of Diamonds tries his wily arts, And wins (oh shameful chance!) the Queen

of Hearts.

At

At this, the blood the virgin's cheek for

fook, A livid paleness spreads o'er all her look ; She sees, and trembles at th' approaching ill, Just in the jaws of ruin, and Codille. And now, (as oft in some distemper'd state) On one nice trick depends the gen’ral fate, An Ace of Hearts steps forth; the King un

seen Lurk'd in her hand, and mourn’d his cap

tive Queen : He springs to vengeance with an eager pace, And falls like thunder on the prostrate Ace. The Nymph exulting fills with thouts the

sky; The walls, the woods, and long canals re

ply.

POPE,

VOL. II.

G

Day.

Day. A Pastoral in Three Parts.

MORNING.

IN

N the barn the tenant cock,

Close to Partlet perch'd on high,
Briskly crows, (the shepherd's clock !)

Jocound that the morning's nigh.

Swiftly from the mountain's brow,

Shadows, nurs'd by night, retire;
And the peeping sun-beam, now,

Paints with gold the village fpire.

Philomel forsakes the thorn,

Plaintive where she prates at night ;
And the lark, to meet the morn,

Soars beyond the shepherd's sight.

From the low roof'd cottage ridge,

See the chatt'ring swallow spring;
Darting through the one-arch'd bridge,
Quick lhe dips her dappled wing.

Now
Now the pine-tree's waving top

Gently greets the morning gale ; Kidlings, now, begin to crop

Daisies, on the dewy dale.

From the balmy sweets, uncloy'd,

(Restless till her task be done). Now the busy bee's employ’d,

Sipping dew before the fun.

Trickling through the crevic'd rock,

Where the limpid stream diftils, Sweet refreshment waits the flock,

When 'tis fun-drove from the hills.

Colin's for the promis'd corn

(Ere the harvest hopes are ripe) Anxious ;-whilft the huntfinan's horn,

Boldly sounding, drowns his pipe.

Sweet- sweet, the warbling throng,

On the white embloffom'd spray! Nature's universel song

Echo's to the rising day.

[blocks in formation]

NOON.

FERVID on the glittring flood,

Now the noon-tide radiance glows ; Drooping o'er its infant bud,

Not a dew-drop's left the rose.

By the brook the shepherd dines,

Froin the fierce meridian heat Shelter'd by the branching pines,

Pendant o'er his grassy seat.

Now the flock forsakes the glade,

Where uncheck'd the sun-beams fall, Sure to find a pleasing shade

By the ivy'd abbey wall.

Echo, in her airy round,

O'er the river, rock, and hill, Cannot catch a single-sound,

Save the clack of yonder mill.

Cattle court the zephyrs bland,

Where the streamlet wanders cool ; Or with languid silence stand

Midway in the marshy pool.

But

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