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QUESTIONS TO CUPID,

RESPECTING

HENRY HORRIBOW *.

RULER of all the Powers above,
And all below! say, God of Love,
Why did you so much skill employ
To form this Cupid-looking Boy?
Tell me, and pr'ythee tell me true,
Why did you make his Eyes so blue?
They mock the tender Violet's dyes,
And match the azure of the Skies.

Next tell me, if, in youth's gay course,
You mean them to increase their force,
Till their sweet beams, that now, so mild,
Charm like the spirit of a child,
No more shall innocently play,
But take a more destructive ray
If so, instead of Eyes so blue-
I would the Boy were blind as you!

?

Next pr'ythce tell, and tell me true,
Wherefore, to suit those Eyes so bluc,
Gave you the Boy such beauteous hair,
Soft as your own, of flaxen fair?

This interesting Child performed the part of Julio, in The Hunter of the Alps,' at six years of age.

While this sheet is going to press, a friend informs the Author that the only duplicate copy of these verses has been given to a Morning Paper. But, as Mr. Sheridan observes, "Things of this kind always circulate best in manuscript." .

Now

Now if his Heart be not as true
And tender as his Eyes are blue,

Those tresses may to Serpents turn,
And like some fatal Meteors burn!
If so instead of locks so fair-
Would that his head like mine were bare!

Then for that Voice-that Voice of Love,
Form'd, like your own, to melt and move,
And tun'd with all your Mother's arts,
To charm and captivate all Hearts,-
Why in the Boy's melodious throat

Did you
If, like a Syren's, 't is design'd
In fatal spells those hearts to bind,
May Discord seize on every sound,
And be the Spells by Truth unbound!

infuse so sweet a note?

Last for his Lips-Now, Traitor! tell, Why you made those Lips so well, Aurora with a Blush might rise,

Spite of the tint of orient skies?

For May's first Rose-buds moist with dew
Are less attractive to the view:-

If for Deceit those Lips are made,
Sooner than Rose-buds may they fade!

And Thou, Minerva, pr'ythee say,
Why with so bright a mental ray,
And all that marks the blue-ey'd Maid,
Hast thou this favour'd Boy array'd?
With ready Thought, Expression fit,
And sterling Sense, and playful Wit!
If these rare Pow'rs are giv'n the Youth
But to disguise immortal Truth,

And

And Falsehood thus belie the God,
Would he were duller than a Clod!!

Yet if-oh, if those Eyes of blue
Prove, like BRITANNIA'S colour, true;--
If those sweet Lips, and silken Hair,
And silver Voice, and frolic Air,
Are giv'n this Cupid-looking Boy,
To form some virtuous Maiden's Joy-
May Lips and Eyes still glow and shine,
And Love for each a garland twine,
Till Life be one unclouded Day,

As fair, and young, and fresh as May!

ΤΟ

A BEAUTIFUL SPANIEL,

WHO CAME AND PASSED A SOCIAL HOUR WITH THE AUTHOR, WHOM HE HAD NEVER SEEN BUT ONCE BEFORE.

DASH! thank you for this morning visit,
-I'm serious, and don't mean to quiz it-
A call of Love, from Man or Beast,
Is always for my heart a Feast:

Again then, thank you, honest Creature:

For sweet the Friendship form'd by Nature.
I know by that ingenuous face,

Thou feel'st I love thy generous Race:

Full many a Puppy, plain or pretty,
From various parts of this fam'd city,
Not half so faithful, kind, or true,

Had been less welcome, DASH, than You.
March 30, 180₺

ΤΟ

MUM'S COT:

WRITTEN WHILE ON A VISIT TO MR. AND MRS. BRIMGARD AT WOODLANDS, IN THE NEW FOREST, ON THE AUTHOR'S BEGINNING TO RECOVER FROM A SEVERE INDISPOSITION.

A COUPLE, tir'd of public life,
Withdrew at length from all its strife;
And, blest with fair and well-earn'd gain,
Resolv'd to settle on the plain;

So built an unpresuming cot

On fertile Hampshire's happiest spot :-
They boasted many a loftier dome,
But here they felt themselves at home.

A rhyming Friend of theirs had long
Built many a pretty Cot in Song;
But, too poetical in purse,

Could only run them up in verse;
And though they cut a dash on paper,
Are unsubstantial as a vapour;
Frail as a house of cards, which boys
Erect, and which a puff destroys..

This Man of Rhyme, from various care,
At length fell sick, and wanted air;
For thought he could not sleep a wink,
So 't was PRESCRIB'D he must not think;
VOL. III.

H

The

The doctors bid him only play,
And give his Muse a holiday*:

On this our Couple, good and kind,

Begg'd he would leave his Muse behind.

"Dear Bard," said they, "quick leave the town,

The Pool mail-coach will set you down

Near to our garden's rustic gate,

Come then and share our tranquil state;

But first, my tuneful Friend, be sure

You can such solitude endure.

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Our Forest-Hut will seem most sweet;
For there, in undisturb'd repose,

You may in dormouse-fashion doze;
And shelter'd 'mongst our forest trees,―
Just freshen'd by the ocean breeze,
That visits Southton now and then,
Comes with the tide, then goes again;-
You, with a rustic and his wife,
Like them may taste a cotter's life.

Yet still we must repeat-Be sure

You can such solitude endure."

"World-weary souls are we, who fly

To forests from society;

Our household is one little maid,

Fit for a couple in the shade:

• The beneficial effects of this excursion to the New Forest have been already mentioned by the Author in plain honest prose, confirmatory of those poetic effusions, no less honest and faithful as to the fact

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