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Should Oxford to her sister Cambridge join
I am a politician too, and hate,
Thus from my birth I'm qualified, you find,
Address'd to Mr. Stpe, to whom the author
had given the reversion of ịt when he left Dresden.
BY SIR CHARLES HANBURY WILLIAMS, K.B. *
rage ; Give forrow and revenge their scope, My present joy, your future hope,
Lies murder'd in his cage.
* Born 1 ...; dyed 17 ...
Matzel's no more, ye graces, loves,
Attend th' untimely bier ;
shall have way:
His nine will ill repay.
In thy funereal verse :
And hang it on thy hearse.
Is fled to happier shades,
Of all th’Elysian glades.
There shall thy plaintive strain
And foften Dido's pain.
And love thee with my love;
And all his songs approve.
To paint those checks of rofy hue ?
Why should I search my brains for rhyme,
To fing those eyes of glofly blue ?
Thy num'rous charms and various graces :
And light up joy in parents' faces.
Those charms their pow'rful sway shall find : 10
And thousands court your with’d-for arms,
15 To fing the victories of your charms.
At least while verse like mine endures :
Of verse like mine, of charms like yours.
Since scarce another house can shew
A beauty, that can charm like you,