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LL ye gentle powers above,
Venus, and thou god of love;
All ye gentle souls below,
'That can melt at others woe;
Lesbia's loss with tears deplore,
Lesbia's sparrow is no more :
Late she wont her bird to prize
Dearer than her own bright eyes.
Sweet it was, and lovely too,
And its mistress well it knew.
Nectar from her lips it sipt,
Here it hopt, and there it skipt:
Oft it wanton'd in the air,
Chirping only to the fair :
Oft it lull'd its head to rest
On the pillow of her breast.
Now, alas ! it chirps no more ;
All its blandishments are o'er :



* Born 17..; dyed 177 ..


Death has summon’d it to go
Pensive to the shades below ;.
Dismal regions ! from whose bourn
No pale travellers return.
Death! relentless to destroy
All that's form’d for love or joy.
Joy is vanish'd, love is fled,
For my Lesbia's sparrow's dead.
Lo, the beauteous nymph appears
Languishingly drown'd in tears !


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How short is life's uncertain space!

Alas ! how quickly done!
How swift the wild precarious chace !

how difficult the race ! How very hard to run !


Youth stops at first its wilful ears

To Wisdom's prudent voice;
Till now arriv’d to riper years,
Experienc'd age, worn out with cares,

Repents its earlier choice.


What though its prospects now appear

So pleasing and refind;
Yet groundless hope, and anxious fear,
By turns the busy moments share,

prey upon the mind.


Since then false joys our fancy cheat

With hopes of real bliss ;
Ye guardian pow'rs that rule my fate,
The only wish that I create
Is all compriz'd in this.

* Born 17..; djed 1769.



May 1, through life's uncertain tide,

Be still from pain exempt;
May all my wants be still supply'd,
My ftate too low t'admit of pride,

And yet above contempt.


But should your providence divine

A greater bliss intend ; May all those blessings you design, (If e'er those blessings shall be mine)

Be center'd in a friend.


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Dear object of my late and early prayer !
Source of my joy! and solace of my care !
Whose gentle friendship such a charm can give,
As makes me wish, and tells me how to live.
To thee the Muse with grateful hand would bring 5
These first fair children of the doubtful Spring.
O may they, fearless of a varying sky,
Bloom on thy breast, and smile beneath thine eye!
In fairer lights their vivid blue display,
And sweeter breathe their little lives away!

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* Born 17 ..; dyed 1779.

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