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More than half a thousand attractions should die,

Not a feature should charm as it did.

But for Kitty, since she had not given offence,

But was innocent, humble, and meek,

On her forehead should flourish good humour and sense

To atone for the blot on her cheek.

The Muses and Graces should in her delight, And, to pay for the charms she had lost, Should contend with each other, from morning to night, To see which could adorn her the most.'

So was Hebe disgrac'd with a leer and a frown,
While Kitty had beauties enow-

A lovelier charmer was never sent down

To be courted by mortals below.

A QUESTION

PROPOSED AND EXPLAINED TO KITTY.

WHENCE came the blemish on thy face?

Did Hebe cause the stain,

Did Nature's self her work disgrace
Lest Kitty should be vain ?

No, 'twas the Priest, who seldom went
To sprinkle smiles like thine,

Mistook the chalice for the font,

And christen'd thee with wine:

Or the pure element, distress'd

At Angel-looks so meek,

Thought thee another Saviour-guést,

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* The author here alludes to a well-known beautiful line, said to have

been written by Dryden, upon the Miracle of Cana:

Lympha pudica Deum vidit et erubuit

When God appear'd, the conscious water blush'd.

So Heaven forbade with timely spot

That beauty to aspire,

Which, had it blaz'd without a blot,

Had set the world on fire.

VERSES

OCCASIONED BY AN ACCIDENT.

IT chanc'd, her gay triumph to check,
As Amanda was dancing with grace,
The chain that encompass'd her neck

Came asunder, and fell from its place.

Be it mine, said the youth at her side,
To entrammel a heart that would stray.

It shall rest where it is, she replied,

Lest my own should be pilfer'd away.

Ay, bind it, he answer'd with zeal,

O for charity give it a chain

;

For none that has power to steal

Will have virtue enough to refrain.

ADDRESS TO HIS FATHER.

DEPARTED Soul, whose sudden calm decease
Came in the moment when thy joyous heart
Welcom❜d the birth-hour of the 'atest born-
Thou at whose feet, a care-devoted child,
I stood unconscious in the hour of death,
And saw thy eyelid close, nor deem'd it aught
Save the sweet symptom of returning sleep-
Kind parent, whose indulgence yet my soul
Fondly remembers, and thy name reveres—
If in the mansions where thy spirit dwells
Inhabits sweet remembrance of thy own,
Know they are happy, and thy virtues hail
With never-ceasing pride and filial joy.

TO AMANDA.

IF Prometheus, my charmer, complain'd
Of the rigorous justice of Jove,
And to Caucasus ever was chain'd,

When he stole only fire from above;

Shalt thou 'scape the Thunderer's blow,
And thy infinite theft be forgiven,

Who hast plunder'd all nature below,

Who hast stol'n all the beauties of heaven ?

O no, thou no longer shalt stray

From the fetters of punishment free; Mighty Jove the vast wrong shall repay,

And chain thee for ever-to me.

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