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If merit pines away forgot,
If rakes at sacred honours sneer,
And lovers dread to be severe :
To deviate from honour's rules,
And thus they all are fashion's fools.
Say, what conclusion's to be drawn,
Are we to fancy, or to feel,
To be consistent, or genteel?
Let's square our lives by reason's rules,
Quam rara est fortuna Getæ? cum deficit unda Potat aquam, sed si sufficit unda, merum.
Says the miller, how odd is this fortune of mine, When my stream's low, I drink it—when high, I
The poet says, that love's like fire,
Which kindly heat and joy imparts, For ev'ry purpose, and desire,
That warms and that expands orr hearts': But, trust this fire, where is the bound
That can its devastation stay? Relentless ruin stalks around,
And horror marks its trackless way: Thus both we dread, and both admire, Thus poets say that love's like fire.
The toper says, that love's like wine,
And that its pow'r, 'bove human ken, Can lift the soul, and so refine
Our joys, that gods might envy men: But from this elevation sunk,
The moment reason leaves the feast,
Is little better than a beast :
Your sportsmen 'say, love's like the chase,
That leads us many a weary mile, Through many a rude and dang’rous place,
O'er mound, and hedge, and ditch, and stile:
But when his pleasures with his toil
Are fairly counted, what's the gain! Fatigu’d, and tir'd, he makes a coil,
And puts up game not worth the pain : Thus love's without a goal, a race, Thus sportsmen say, love's like a chase.
True lovers say, love's like the devil,
Who turns a hundred devious ways, With saint-like face, and heart of evil,
And smiles the most when he betrays: Does not the devil take ev'ry hue,
And in all forms and fashions move?
And hot, and cold ?--and so is love :
Let carping idcots still condemn,
Where reason bids them most rejoice, For if they err the fault's in them,
And in the object of their choice: The lover that shall all excel,
Let him but chuse a faithless fair; His love shall prove a very hell,
No Lethe to relieve his care: Let him of reason take advice, His love shall be a Paradise.
Dibdin. LOVE AND INDUSTRY.
SHARe my cottage, dearest maid ! Beneath a mountain wide and high, It nestles in a silent glade,
And Wye's clear current wanders by. Each tender care, each honest art,
Shall chase all future want from thee; When thy sweet lips consent impart,
To climb these steepy hills with me.
Far from the city's vain parade,
No scornful brow shall there be seen; No dull impertinence invade,
Nor envy base, nor sullen spleen. The shadowy rocks, that circle round,
From storms shall guard our sylvan cell; And there shall ev'ry joy be found,
That loves in peaceful vales to dwell.
When late the tardy sun shall peer,
And faintly gild yon little spire ; When nights are long, and frosts severe;
And.our clean hearth is bright with fire; Sweet tales to read, sweet tales to sing,
O! they shall drown the wind and rain, E’en till the soften'd season bring
The merry spring-time back again.
Then hawthorn's flow'ring in the glen,
Shall guard the warbling plumy throng;
So fair a scene, so sweet a song.
And to the sunny shelter bear;
My hands impel the gleaming share.
Ne'er doubt our wheaten ears will rise,
And full their yellow harvest glow; Then prove, with me, the sprightly joys
That love and industry bestow :
Her clouds no passing day will see;
AN IDEA ON A PECK OF COALS.
BUY my Coals by Pecks, that we May have 'em fresh and fresh, d’ye see!