Like new-made glass, set by to cool,
Before it bears the workman's tool.

A blotted proof-sheet, wet from Bowling.

56 How can a man his anger hold in?"-... Forgotten rimes, and college themes, Worm-eaten plans, and embryo schemes ;A mass of heterogeneous matter,

A chaos dark, nor land nor water;

New books, like new-born infants, stand,
Waiting the printer's clothing hand;-
Others, a motley ragged brood,

Their limbs unfashioned all, and rude,
Like Cadmus' half-formed men appear;
One rears a helm, one lifts a spear,
And feet were lopped and fingers torn
Before their fellow limbs were born;

A leg began to kick and sprawl
Before the head was seen at all,
Which quiet as a mushroom lay
Till crumbling hillocks gave it way;

58 FURNITURE IN DR. PRIESTLEY'S STUDY.

And all, like controversial writing,

Were born with teeth, and sprung up fighting.

"But what is this," I hear you cry,
"Which saucily provokes my eye?”—

A thing unknown, without a name,
Born of the air and doomed to flame.

ON A LADY'S WRITING.

HER even lines her steady temper show, Neat as her dress, and polished as her brow; Strong as her judgement, easy as her air; Correct though free, and regular though fair : And the same graces o'er her pen preside,

That form her manners and her footsteps guide.

ON THE DESERTED VILLAGE.

IN vain fair Auburn weeps her desert plains,
She moves our envy who so well complains ;
In vain has proud oppression laid her low,
So sweet a garland on her faded brow.

Now, Auburn, now absolve impartial fate,

Which if it made thee wretched, makes thee great:

So, unobserved, some humble plant may bloom,
Till crushed it fills the air with sweet perfume;

So, had thy swains in ease and plenty slept,
Thy Poet had not sung, nor Britain wept.
Nor let Britannia mourn her drooping bay,
Unhonoured genius, and her swift decay;
O Patron of the poor! it cannot be,

While one

—one Poet yet remains like thee!

Nor can the Muse desert our favoured isle,

Till thou desert the Muse and scorn her smile.

HYMN TO CONTENT.

......................................................................... natura beatis

Omnibus esse dedit, si quis cognoverit uti.

CLAUDIAN,

O THOU, the Nymph with placid eye!

O seldom found, yet ever nigh!

Receive my temperate vow:

Not all the storms that shake the pole
Can e'er disturb thy halcyon soul,

And smooth unaltered brow.

O come, in simple vest arrayed,
With all thy sober cheer displayed,

To bless my longing sight;

Thy mien composed, thy even pace,
Thy meek regard, thy matron grace,

And chaste subdued delight.