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Great bard! what energy, but thine,
Could reach the vast description of their rage?
Or when, to cruel foes betray'd,
Sareph and Hamar call for aid,

Loft, and bewilder'd in despair,
How piercing are the hapless lover's cries!
What tender ftrokes in melting accents rife!

Oh, what a masterpiece of pity's there?
Nor goodly Joah fhows thy fweetness lefs,
When, like kind heaven, he frees them from dif-
trefs!

Hail thou, whofe verfe, a living image, fhines, In Gideon's character your own you drew! As there the graceful patriot fhines, We in that image bright Hillarius view! Let the low crowd, who love unwholefome fare, When in thy words the breath of angels flows, Like grofs-fed fpirits, fick in purer air, Their earthly fouls by their dull taste disclose ! Thy dazzling genius fhines too bright! [light. And they, like fpectres, hun the ftreams of But while in fhades of ignorance they stray, Round thee rays of knowledge play, And show thee glittering in abftracted day.'

TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE

BESSY, COUNTESS OF ROCHFORD, Daughter of the late Earl Rivers-when with Child.` As when the fun walks forth in flaming gold, Mean plants may fmile, and humble flowers unfold, The low-laid lark the diftant æther wings, And, as the foars, her daring anthem fings; So, when thy charms celeftial views create, My fmiling fong furmounts my gloomy fate. Thy angel-embryo prompts my towering lays, Claims my fond wifh, and fires my future praise : May it, if male, its grandfire's image wear; Or in its mother's charms confefs the fair; At the kind birth may each mild planet wait; Soft be the pain, but prove the bleffing great. [reft!

Hail, Rivers! hallow'd fhade! defcend from

Defcend and smile, to fee thy Rochford bleft: [run, Weep not the scenes through which my life muft Though fate, fleet-footed, fcents thy languid fon. The bar that, darkening, crofs'd my crefted claim, Yields at her charms, and brightens in their flamé : That blood which, honour'd, in thy Rochford reigns,

In cold, unwilling wanderings trac'd my veins. Want's wintery realm froze hard around my view; And fcorn's keen blasts a cutting anguish blew. To fuch fad weight my gathering griefs were wrought, [thought! Life feem'd not life, but when convuls'd with Decreed beneath a mother's frown to pine, Madness were ease, to misery form'd like mine! Yet my muse waits thee through the realms of day,

Where lambent lightnings round thy temples play. Sure my fierce woes will, like those fires, refine, Thus lofe their torture, and thus glorious shine! And now the mufe heaven's milky path furveys, With thee, 'twixt pendent worlds, it wondering Arays,

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Worlds which, unnumber'd as thy virtues, rel Round funs-fix'd, radiant emblems of thy fo Hence lights refra&ted run through distant skin, Changeful on azure plains in quivering dyes! So thy mind darted through its earthy frame, A wide, a various, and a glittering flame.

Now a new scene enormous luftre brings, Now feraphs fhade thee round with filver wings; In angel-forms thou feeft thy Rochford fhme; In each sweet form is trac'd her beauteous line! Such was her foul, ere this selected mould Sprung at thy with, the fparkling life t' info So amidst cherubs fhone her fon refin'd, Are infant-flefh the new-form'd foul enfhrin'd So fhall a foquent race from Rochford rife, The world's fair pride-descendants of the firs

TO THE EXCELLENT MIRANDA, CONSORT OF AARON HILL, ESQ. ON READING E POEMS.

EACH foftening charm of Clio's fmiling fong, Montague's foul, which fhines divinely ftrong, Thefe blend, with graceful ease, to form thy rhym Tender yet chafte; fweet-founding, yet fublu, Wisdom and wit have made thy works their a Each paffion glows, refin'd by precept, there: To fair Miranda's form each grace is kind; The mufes and the virtues tune thy mind.

VERSES TO A YOUNG LADY.

POLLY, from me, though now a love-fick fetth,
Nay, though a poet, hear the voice of truth!
Polly, you're not a beauty, yet you're pretty;
So grave, yet gay; fo filly, yet fo witty;
A heart of foftnefs, yet a tongue of fatire;
You've cruelty, yet, ev'n with that, good nature
Now you are free, and now referv'd awhile;
Now a forc'd frown betrays a willing fmile.
Reproach'd for abfence, yet your fight deny'd,
How would you chide me, fhould your fex dei
My tongue you filence, yet my filence chide.
If I defpair, with fome kind look you blefs;
Yet, fhould they praife, grow jealous, and excha
But if I hope, at once all hope fupprefs.
Too late you'd whimper out a fofter tale.
You fcorn; yet fhould my paffion change, or fai
Doubt, yet difcern; deny, and yet defire.
You love; yet from your lover's with retire;
Such, Polly, are your fex-part truth, part fit
Some thought, much whim, and all a contradict

THE GENTLEMAN.
ADDRESSED TO JOHN JOLIFFE, ESQ.

A DECENT mein, an elegance of dress,
Words, which, at cafe, each winning grace expres
A life, where love, by wisdom polish'd, fhaines,
Where wisdom's felf again, by love, refines;
Where we to chance for friendship never truft,
Nor ever dread from sudden whim difguft;
To focial manners, and the heart humane;
A nature ever great, and never vain;
A wit, that no licentious pertnefs knows;
The fenfe, that unaffuming candour shows;

Reason, by narrow principles uncheck'd,
Slave to no party, bigot to no fect;
Knowledge of various life, of learning too;
Thence tafte; thence truth, which will from tafte
enfue:

Unwilling cenfure, though a judgment clear;
A fmile indulgent, and that fmile fincere;
An humble, though an elevated mind;
A pride, its pleasure but to serve mankind :
If these esteem and admiration raise;
Give true delight, and gain unflattering praise,
In one wifh'd view, th' accomplish'd man we fee;
These graces all are thine, and thou art he.

CHARACTER

OF THE REV. JAMES FOSTER.

*

FROM Codex hear, ye ecclefiaftic men,
This paftoral charge to Webster, Stebbing, Ven;
Attend, ye emblems of your P. 's mind!
Mark faith, mark hope, mark charity, defin'd;
On terms, whence no ideas ye can draw,
Pin well your faith, and then pronounce it law;
First wealth, a crofier next, your hope enflame;
And next church-power-a power o'er confcience,
claim;

In modes of worship right of choice deny;
Say, to convert, all means are fair ;-add, why?
'Tis charitable-let your power decree,
That perfecution then is charity;

Call reafon error; forms, not things, display;
Let moral doctrine to abitrufe give way;
Sink demonftration; myftery preach alone;
Be thus religion's friend, and thus your own.
But Fofter well this honefl truth extends-
Where mystery begins, religion ends.
In him, great modern miracle! we fee
A prieft, from avarice and ambition free;
One, whom no perfecuting spirit fires;
Whole heart and tongue benevolence infpires:
Learn'd, not affuming; eloquent, yet plain;
Meek, though not timorous; conscious, though
not vain ;

Without craft, reverend; holy, without cant;
Zealous for truth, without enthufiak rant.
His faith, where no credulity is feen,

'Twixt infidel and bigot, marks the mean;

His hope, no mitre militant on earth,

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Charms, which th` unthinking muft to thought

excite;

Lo! vice lefs vicious! virtue more upright:
Him copy, Codex, that the good and wife,
Who fo abhor thy heart, and head despise,
May fee thee now, though late, redeem thy name,
And glorify what elfe is damn'd to fame.

But fhould fome churchman, apeing wit severe,
The poet's fure turn'd Baptift---fay, and sneer;
Shame on that narrow mind fo often known,
Which in one mode of faith, owns worth alone.
Sncer on, rail, wrangle! nought this truth repels----
Virtue is virtue, wherefoe'er fhe dwells;

And fure, where learning gives her light to fhine,
Her's is all praife--if her's, 'tis Fofter, thine.
Thee boaft diffenters; we with pride may own
Our Tillotson; and Rome, her Fenelon *.

THE POET'S DEPENDANCE

ON A STATESMAN.

SOME feem to hint, and others proof will bring,
That, from neglect, my numerous hardships fpring.
Seek the great man! they cry---'tis then decreed,
In him, if I court fortune, I fucceed.

What friends to fecond? who for me should fue,
Have interefts, partial to themselves, in view.
They own any matchlefs fate compaffion draws;
They all wish well, lament, but drop my cause.

There are who afk no penfion, want no place,
No title wish, and would accept no grace.
Can I entreat, they fhould for me obtain
The leaft, who greatest for themselves difdain?
A statesman, knowing this, unkind, will cry,
Thofe love him: let thofe ferve him-why
fhould I?

Say, fhall I turn where lucre points my views;
At first defert my friends, at length abuse?
But, on lefs terms, in promise he complies:
Years bury years, and hopes on hopes arife;
I trust, am trufled on my fairy gain;
And woes on woes attend, an endless train.

Be pofts difpos'd at will!-I have, for these,
No gold to plead, no impudence to teaze.
All fecret service from my foul I hate;
All dark intrigues of pleasure, or of state.
I have no power, election-votes to gain;
No will to hackney out polemic strain ;
To shape, as time fhall ferve, my verse, or profe,
To flatter thence, nor flur, a courtier's foes;
Nor him to daub with praise, if I prevail;
Nor fhock'd by him with libels to affail.
Where thefe are not, what claim to me belongs?

'Tis that bright crown, which heaven referves for Though mine the muse and virtue, birth and

worth.

A priest, in charity with all mankind,
His love to virtue, not to fect confin'd:
Truth his delight; from him it flames abroad,
From him, who fears no being, but his God.
In him from Chriftian, moral light can shine;
Not mad with mystery, but a found divine;
He wins the wife and good, with reafon's lore;
Then ftrikes their paffions with pathetic power;
Where vice erects her head, rebukes the page;
Mix'd with rebuke, perfuafive charms engage;

wrongs.

Where lives the statesman, so in honour clear,
To give where he has nought to hope, nor fear?

*In this character of the Rev. James Fofter, truth guided the pen of the mufe. Mr. Pope paid a tribute to the modeft worth of this excellent man: little did be imagine his Rev. Annotator would endeavour to convert bis praife into abufe. The character and writings of Fofter will be admired and read, when the works of the bitter controverfialift are forgotten.

No! there to feek, is but to find fresh pain:
The promise broke, renew'd, and broke again;
To be, as humour deigns, receiv'd, refus'd;
By turns affronted, and by turns amus'd;
To lofe that time, which worthier thoughts require;
To lose the health, which should those thoughts
infpire;

To ftarve and hope; or, like camelions, fare
On ministerial faith, which means but air.

But ftill, undrooping, I the crew disdain,
Who, or by jobs, or libels, wealth obtain.
Ne'er let me be, through those, from want exempt;
In one man's favour, in the world's contempt:
Worse in my own !---through thofe, to posts who
rife,

Themselves, in fecret, must themselves defpife; Vile, and more vile, till they, at length, disclaim Not fenfe alone of glory, but of fhame.

What though I hourly fee the fervile herd, For meannefs honour'd, and for guilt prefer'd; See felfifh paffion, public virtue feem; And public virtue an enthusiast dream; See favour'd falfehood, innocence belied, Meekness deprefs'd, and power-elated pride; A scene will show, all-righteous vision haste; The meck exalted, and the proud debas'd!--Oh, to be there !---to tread that friendly fhore, Where falsehood, pride, and statesmen are no more!

But ere indulg'd---ere fate my breath fhall claim, A poet ftill is anxious after fame.

What future fame would my ambition crave? This were my wifh---could ought my memory fave,

Say, when in death my forrows lie repos'd,
That my paft life no venal view difclos'd;
Say, I well knew, while in a state obfcure,
Without the being bafe, the being poor;
Say, I had parts, too moderate to tranfcend:
Yet fenfe to mean, and virtue not t' offend;
My heart fupplying what my head denied,
Say that, by Pope esteem'd I liv'd and died;
Whofe writings the best rules to write could give;

Whofe life the nobler fcience how to live.

AN EPISTLE

TO DAMON AND DELIA.

HEAR Damon, Delia hear, in candid lays,
Truth without anger, without flattery, praife!
A bookish mind, with pedantry unfraught,
Of a fedate, yet never gloomy thought:
Prompt to rejoice, when others pleasure know,
And prompt to feel the pang for others woe;
To foften faults, to which a foe is prone,
And, in a friend's perfection, praise your own:
A will fincere, unknown to felfifh views;
A heart of love, of gallantry a muse;
A delicate, yet not a jealous mind;
A paflion ever fond, yet never blind,
Glowing with amorous, yet with guiltless fires,
In ever-eager, never grofs defires :
A modest honour, facred to contain
From tattling vanity, when fmiles you gain;

Conftant, moft pleas'd when beauty most yu

please :

Damon your picture's fhown in tints like theft. Say, Delia muft I chide you or commend? Say, muft I be your flatterer or your friend?

To praife no graces in a rival fair, Nor your own foibles in a fifter fpare; Each lover's billet, bantering, to reveal, And never know one fecret to conceal; Young, fickle, fair, a levity inborn, To treat all fighing flaves with flippant scorn; An eye, expreffive of a wandering mind: Nor this to read, nor that to think inclin'd; Or when a book, or thought, from whim retard, Intent on fongs or novels, dress or cards; Choice to felect the party of delight, To kill time, thought, and fame, in frolic flight; To flutter here, to flurry there on wing; To talk, to teaze, to fimper, or to fing; To prude it, to coquet it---him to trust, Whose vain, loofe life, fhould caution or difguft; Him to diflike, whofe modeft worth fhail please.--

Say, is your picture shown in tints like these? Your's! ---you deny it---Hear the point then trial, Let judgment, truth, the mufe, and love decide. What your's!--Nay, faireft trifler, frown not fa: Is it the mufe with doubt---Love answers No: You fmile--Is't not? Again the question try!-Yes, judgment thinks, and truth will Yes, reply.

TO MISS M*** H'

SENT WITH MR. POPE'S WORKS.

SEE female vice and female foily here,
Raillied with wit polite, or lafh'd fevere:
Let Pope prefent fuch objects to our view;
Such are, my fair, the full reverse of you.
Rapt when, to Loddon's ftream from Windfor's
shades,

He fings the modeft charms of sylvan maids;
Dear Burford's hills in memory's eye appear,

And Luddal's fpring + ftill murmurs in my car:
But when you ceafe to blefs my longing eyes,
Dumb is the fpring, the joyless profpect dies:
Come then, my charmer, come! here tranfpor
reigns!

New health, new youth, infpirits all my veins.
Each hour let intercourfe of hearts employ,
Thou life of lovelinefs! thou foul of joy!
Love wakes the birds---oh, hear each melting lay!
Love warms the world---come charmer, come -
way!

But hark--immortal Pope refumes the lyre!
Diviner airs, diviner flights, infpire :

Hark where an angel's language tunes the line!
See where the thoughts and looks of angels fhine!
Here he pour'd all the mufic of your tongue,
And all your looks and thoughts, unconscious,
fung.

Alluding to the beautiful Episode of Loddona, in Windferioreft. tpring near Burford.

ON THE RECOVERY OF

A LADY OF QUALITY
From the Small-Pox.

LONG a lov'd fair had blefs'd her confort's fight
With amorous pride, and undisturb'd delight;
Till death, grown envious with repugnant aim,
Frown'd at their joys, and urg'd a tyrant's claim.
He fummons each difeafe !---the noxious crew,
Writhing, in dire distortions, strike his view!
From various plagues, which various natures know,
Forth rushes beauty's fear'd and fervent foe.
Fierce to the fair, the miffile mischief flies,
The fanguine ftreams in raging ferments rife!
t drives, ignipotent, through every vein,
Hangs on the heart, and burns around the brain!
Now a chill damp the charmer's luftre dims!
Sad o'er her eyes the livid languor fwims!
Her eyes, that with a glance could joy infpire,
Like fetting stars, fcarce fhoot a glimmering fire.
Here ftands her confort, fore, with anguifh, preft,
Grief in his eye, and terror in his breast.
The Paphian graces, fmit with anxious care,
In filent forrow weep the waining fair.
Eight funs, fucceffive, roll their fire away,
And eight flow nights fee their deep shades decay.
While thefe revolve, though mute each mufe ap-

pears,

Each speaking eye drops eloquence in tears.

On the ninth noon, great Phœbus, liftening bends!
On the ninth noon, each voice in prayer afcends!---
Great god of light, of fong, and phyfic's art,
Reftore the languid fair, new foul impart!
Her beauty, wit, and virtue claim thy care,
And thine own bounty's almoft rival'd there.
Each paus'd. The god affents. Would death

advance?

Phœbus, unfeen, arrefts the threatening lance!
Down from his orb a vivid influence ftreams,
And quickening earth imbibes falubrious beams;
Each balmy plant, increase of virtue knows,
And art, infpir'd, with all her patron, glows.
The charmer's opening eye, kind hope, reveals,
Kind hope, her confort's breast enlivening feels.
Each grace revives, each muse resumes the lyre,
Each beauty brightens with re-lumin'd fire.
As health's aufpicious powers gay life difplay,
Death, fullen at the fight, ftalks flow away.

THE FRIEND.

AN EPISTLE TO AARON HILL, ESQUIRE. O MY lov'd Hill, O thou by heaven defign'd To charm, to mend, and to adorn mankind! To thee my hopes, fears, joys, and forrows tend, Thou brother, father, nearer yet!---thou friend! If worldly friendships oft cement, divide, As interests vary, or as whims prefide; If leagues of luxury borrow friendship's light, Or leagues fubverfive of all focial right: O fay, my Hill, in what propitious sphere, Gain we the friend, pure, knowing, and fincere? 'Tis where the worthy and the wife retire; There wealth may learn its ufe, may love infpire; VOL. VIII.

There may young worth, the nobleft end obtain, In want my friends, in friends may knowledge gain;

In knowledge blifs; for wifdom virtue finds,
And brightens mortal to immortal minds.
Kind then my wrongs, if love, like yours, fuc-
ceed;

For you, like virtue, are a friend indeed.

Oft when you faw my youth wild error know, Reproof, foft-hinted, taught the bluff to glow. Young and unform'd, you firft my genius rais'd, Juft fmil'd when faulty; and when moderate prais'd.

Me fhun'd, me ruin'd, fuch a mother's rage!.
You fung, till pity wept o'er every page.
You call'd my lays and wrongs to early fame;
Yet, yet, th' obdurate mother felt no fhame.
Pierc'd as I was! your counsel foften'd care,
To eafe turn'd anguish, and to hope despair.
The man who never wound afflictive feels,
Welcome the wound, when bleft with such relief!
He never felt the balmy worth that heals.
For deep is felt the friend, when felt in grief.

From you fhall never, but with life, remove
Afpiring genius, condefcending love.
Relief feems infult, and confirms distress;
When fome, with cold, fuperior looks, redress,
You, when you view the man with wrongs be
fieg'd,

While warm you act th' obliger, feem th' oblig'd.
To equals free, unfervile to the great;
All-winning mild to each of lowly state;
Greatness you honour, when by worth acquir'd;
Worth is by worth in every rank admir'd.
Greatnefs you fcorn, when titles infult speak;
That worthless blifs, which others court, you Дlys
Proud to vain pride, to honour'd meeknefs meek
That worthy woe, they fhun, attracts your eye.

But fhall the mufe refound alone your praise;
No-let the public friend exalt her lays!
O trace that friend with me!-he's your's-he's
mine!—

The world's-beneficent behold him shine!

Is wealth his sphere? If riches, like a tide, From either India pour their golden pride; Rich in good works, him others wants employ; He gives the widow's heart to fing for joy. To orphans, prifoners, fhall his bounty flow; The weeping family of want and woe.

Is knowledge his? Benevolently great, In leifure active, and in care fedate; What aid, his little wealth perchance denies, In each hard inftance his advice supplies. With modest truth he fets the wandering right; And gives religion pure, primeval light; In love diffufive, as in light refia'd, The liberal emblem of his Maker's mind.

Is power his orb? He then, like power divine, On all, though with a varied ray, will fhine. Ere power was his, the man he once careis'd, Meets the fame faithful finile, and mutual breast; But ask his friend fome dignity of itate; His friend, unequal to th' incumbent weight? Afks it a stranger, one whom parts inspire With all a people's welfare would require ?

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His choice admits no paufe; his gift will prove
All private, well absorb'd in public love.

He thields his country, when for aid fhe calls;
Or, fhould the fall, with her he greatly falls:
But, as proud Rome, with guilty conqueft crown'd,
Spread flavery, death and defolation round,
Should e'er his country, for dominion's prize,
Againit the fons of men a faction rife,
Glory in hers, is in his eye difgrace;
The friend of truth; the friend of human race.
Thus to no one, no fect, no clime cónfin'd,
His boundless love embraces all mankind;
And all their virtues in his life are known;
And all their joys and forrows are his own.
Thefe are the lights, where ftands that friend
confeft;

This, this the fpirit, which informs thy breast.
Through fortune's cloud thy genuine worth can
hire;
[thine?
What would't thou not, were wealth and greatness

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Oh could my foul through depths of knowledge Could I read nature and mankind like thee, 1 fhould o'ercome, or bear the fhocks of fate, And e'en draw envy to the humblest state. Thou can raife honour from each ill event, From fhocks gain vigour, and from want content. Think not light poctry my life's chief care!

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The mufe's mafion is, at beft, but air;
But, if more folid works my meaning forms,
Th' unfinish'd ftructures fall by fortune's forms.
Oft have I faid we falfely thofe accufe,
Whofe godlike fouls life's middle state refufe.
Self-love, I cry'd, there feeks ignoble reft;"
Care fleeps not calm, when millions wake unbleft;
Mean let me fhrink, or spread sweet shade o'er all,

Low as the fhrub, or as the cedar tall!-
Twas vain! 'twas wild I fought the middle ftate,
And found the good, and found the truly great.

Though verfe can never give my foul her aim;
Though action only claims substantial fame;
Though fate denies what my proud wants require,
Yet grant me,heaven, by knowledge to afpire ::
Thus to inquiry let me prompt the mind;
Thus clear dimim'd truth, and bid her blefs man-
· kind;

From the pierc'd orphan thus draw fhafts of grief!
Arm want with patience, and teach wealth relief!
To ferve lov'd liberty infpire my breath!
Or, if my life be ufelefs, grant me death;
For he, who ufelefs is in life furvey'd,
Burthens that world, his duty bids him aid.

See Dyer's Poems.

Say, what have honours to allure the mind, Which he gains moft, who leaft has ferv'd m kind?

Titles, when worn by fools, I dare despise;
Yet they claim homage, when they crown the wik
When high diftinction marks deferving heirs,
Defert ftill dignifies the mark it wears.

But, who to birth alone would honours owe?
Honours, if true, from feeds of merit grow.
Thofe trees, with fweereft charms, invite our eye,
Which, from our own engraftment, fruitful rif
Still we love beft what we with labour gain,
As the child's dearer for the mother's pain.

The great I would not envy nor deride; Nor ftoop to fwell a vain fuperior's pride; Nor view an equal's hope with jealous eyes; Not crufh the wretch beneath who wailing lis My fympathizing breaft his grief can feel, And my eye weep the wound I cannot heal. Ne'er among friendfhips let me fow debate, Nor by another's fall advance my state; Nor mifufe wit against an absent friend: Let me the virtues of a foe defend! In wealth and want true minds preferve ther Meek, though exalted; though disgrac'd, ele; Generous and grateful, wrong'd or help'd they liv Grateful to ferve, and generous to forgive.

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This may they learn, who clofe thy life attend; Which, dear in memory, still inftructs thy friend. Though cruel diftance bars my groffer eye, My foul, clear-fighted, draws thy virtue nigh; Through her deep woe that quickening comfort gleams,

And lights up fortitude with friendship's beams

VERSES

OCCASIONED BY THE VICE-PRINCIPAL OF
ST. MARY-HALL, OXFORD.

Being prefented by the Honourable Mrs Knight, t
Living of Godsfield in Effex.

WHILE by mean arts and meaner patrons rife
Priests, whom the learned and the good defpift:
This fees fair Knight, in whofe tranfcendent m
Are wisdom, purity, and truth enfarin'd.
Thy living, Godsfield falls her inftant gift.
A modeft merit now the plans to lift,

And make the church-revenue virtue's prize.
Let me (faid fhe) reward alone the wife,

She fought the man of honest, candid breast,
In faith, in works of goodness, full expreft;
To fcience moral, and religious truth.
Though young, yet tutoring academic youth
She fought where the difinterested friend,
The fcholar, fage, and free companion blend;
The pleafing poet, and the deep divine, [thine.
She fought, fhe found, and, Hart: the prize was

FULVI A.

A POEM.

LET Fulvia's wifdom be a flave to will,
Her darling paffions, fcandal and quadrille;
On friends and foes her tongue a fatire know
Her deeds a fatire on herfelf alone.

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