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That Hospitality in smiles is there,
The Friend to welcome, and the Feast prepare.

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And, would you see what rarely Cots bestow,
And Palaces more rare,-this Cot can show
Three objects yet the attentive Guest invite,
To give the friendly heart more full delight:
Three happy Portraits drawn from real Life,
And two of these-O strange !—a Man and Wife;
The third a Child-of both the darling bliss,
And their sole strife is for an Infant's kiss:
And whosoe'er dispute their happy lot,
Have but to make a visit to the Cot;

But, would the Cottagers these Portraits see,
Their faithful Mirror will reflect the Threc.

ΤΟ

MR. AND MRS. DROUGHT.

Six years, my Friends, you tell me, you've been wed;
And yet, so smoothly those six years have fled,
That this fair morn seems but your bridal day!
On Love's own wings must they have pass'd away.

Thrice happy Pair! to those who live in strife,
Six years would seem a long and luckless life!
Cupid and Hymen seldom keep together
But just in pairing-time, while full in feather;

The

The first a bird of passage, like the swallow;
To spend a summer month the last will follow;
Then leaves poor Hy. to winter and grow old;
His torch blown out with sighs, himself quite cold.
But both the gods-Ah, bliss bestow'd on few!-
Agree to take up their abode with you;
By their own almanack-oh, happy fate!-
Have taught you both the time to calculate;
Count days but minutes-minutes, that appear
Too swift to roll away the blithesome year.

O blest Arithmetic! and be it yours,
While all that sweetens time below endures!
Such be your happy Reck'ning, till you prove
Bliss beyond measure in the realms above!

Claines, near Worcester,
March 5, 1802.

APOLOGY TO A FRIEND,

FOR ADDRESSING HIM SOME TIME AFTER A MELANCHOLY

EVENT.

AMONGST the first to share your sacred grief,

The first, alas! its cause severe to mourn,-Ah, blame not, though the last to bring relief, Or weave the cypress round the sainted urn!

For

For, O how feeble is Affection's lyre

To soothe the anguish of a woe profound! How vain is all that Genius could inspire!

And Pity's tear but aggravates the wound.

In Nature's pangs 't is Nature bids us feel,
Beyond or Friendship's or the Muse's power:
Th' ALMIGHTY hand that bruis'd, alone can heal,
And pour a balm upon that bitter hour.

He, only He, a solace can impart;

Teach us to think the blow was kindly giv❜n; Can waft a comfort to the Widower's heart, Breath'd in soft whispers full of Hope and Heav'n.

INVOCATION TO FORTUNE.

PRESENTED TO A YOUNG LADY, WITH A SHARE IN A LOTTERY-TICKET.

WHY, Fortune, art thou painted blind,

Partial, deceptive, and unkind;

A false coquette, a fickle dame,

A jilt, and each opprobrious name {
It is because mankind agree,

Those are most blind who will not see.

Hence thy deluded votaries shower
Indignant curses on thy power:

Hence

Hence fools are creatures of thy smile;
Thy favourites oft the base and vile:
And oft thy prostituted wheel
Turns to enrich a heart of steel;
Or some unsocial, sordid elf,
Who has no idol but himself;

Or points the prize to some State knave,
Or Fashion's fool, or Passion's slave:
Yet when the Good thy help invoke,
That cruel wheel receives a spoke;
Or whirls from Virtue far away,
And leaves soft Beauty to decay.
Yes, Goddess! hence it is we shower
Indignant curses on thy power!

But if that curse thou wouldst remove,
And change it to a generous love,—
Make sweet SOPHIA now thy care,
And it shall soften to a prayer:

O henceforth be the Friend of Truth,

Of Beauty, Innocence, and Youth:

Then Bards shall pray that thou mayst see,
And twine their choicest bays for Thee,

TO

TO *******, ESQ.

WAITING THE EVENT OF A CHANCERY SUIT.

IF

Ir a good Cause were always Law,

In yours there could be found no flaw;
If Sense and Worth could rule the Knave,
You might a whole Banditti brave.
But Lawyers, e'en when honest Men,-
A case that happens now and then,
And I could name you not a few,—
Cannot do much, my Friend, for you:
Reasons for this, alas! there's plenty;
This moment I could mention twenty:
Yet one or two may well suffice
Why to the Rogues you've been a prize.

Imprimis, you were rich and young,
And hence, in part, the mischief's sprung;
And, secondly, the Rogues were poor,
And old; 't were needless to say more-
Old men in vice, if not in age.-
My Friend, when Striplings dare engage
With such as these, 'tis ten to one
The Good are by the Bad undone;
And Law and Lawyers long outwitted,
Ere with a halter Knaves are fitted.
And if the Clients freely bleed,

And Sense and Worth at length succeed,

Though

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