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the illustrious personages, that are so often quoted in my pages, declare their displeasure in low, but decisive murmurs. Adieu! attend to this, or expect to hear again from the

LATIN GRAMMAR.

I HAVE LOVED, WHO HAS NOT?

Who is there, though his stony breast
Conceal'd an iron heart,

Has ne'er the force of love confest,
Nor felt its pleasant smart?

Oh! that he had but seen those charms
Fortune has bade me see ;
Nay, steel his heart in triple arms
It still could not be free.

I've gaz'd on one dear lovely face,
Where all was sweet and fair,
And ev'ry beauty, ev'ry grace,
Seem'd center'd wholly there.

And one there was, whose tearful eye,
Whose form, in mourning clad,
Distress bespoke the frequent sigh
Evinc'd her heart was sad.

But who could see that starting tear,
Could view that sable dress,
And would not think her doubly dear?
Oh! who could love her less?

Another, too, whose smiling cheek,

Whose buoyant look of glee,

Made all resistance idly weak-
It was too strong for me.

BYRON.

One have I seen, whose sparkling eye
Shot love in ev'ry glance;
Whose feelings rose in ev'ry sigh
Too big for utterance.

Some envious prude may say I'm
wrong,
And write "some shocking lays,
A most immoral wicked song,'
And bid me "mend my ways.”

But I'm no Stoic, and I find
To charms I am not cold;
To praise I am as much inclin'd
As she may be to scold:

And, pretty prude, you need not storm,
Nor think your frowns my due;

I have not criticis'd your form,
Nor talk'd of loving you.

Then, when you feel your choler rise,
I pray remember this,

I've not sung sonnets to your eyes,
Nor ask'd you for a kiss.

C. DASHWOOD.

A NEW INVOCATION TO CUPID.

Written expressly for such young Gentlemen as stand in need of his assistance. By CHARLES DASHWOOD, ESQ.

By the many oaths I've spoken,
By the many vows I've broken,
By looks, and tears, and beaming eyes,
By hearts, and sighs, and lovers' lies,

By the soft, sweet, unbidden flush
Of modesty's enticing blush,
By Mary, Caroline, Maria,
By Ellen, Emily, Sophia,

By dashing belles, and village girls,
By harps, and songs, and flowing curls,
By that rare plant "forget me not,"
By Venus, and the wedding knot,
By roses, lilies, blooming flow'rs,
By groves, and woods, and shady bow'rs,
By solitude, and crowded balls,
By woodbine cots, and festive halls,
By feasting, dancing, singing, wine,
By Phoebus, and the sacred Nine,
By the soft hour of calm midnight,
By twilight-every kind of light,
By glowing cheeks, and winning smiles,
By all such pretty, petty wiles,
By the bliss of stolen kisses,
By the lips of willing misses,
By many a merry laugh and joke,
Sweet god of love, I thee invoke ;
Aid my deeds, attend my doings,
Help my vows, assist my wooings;
To me thy arts of winning lend;
I prithee, Cupid, be my friend.

ODE TO RETIREMENT.

Oh! sweet retirement, let me dwell
Within thy peaceful, humble cell,
And taste thy joys unseen;

Wrapt in thy solitary shade,

To me be nature's works display'd,
Within thy sylvan scene.

Afar remov'd from noise and strife,
From all the giddy thoughts of life,
Content and peace be mine;
Still let me seek the silent grove,
Sacred to solitude and love,

And worship at thy shrine.

Let not ambition prompt a sigh,
Nor pleasure's vain allurements try,
With flatt'ring arts to please;
Awhile they may delight the mind,
But, ah! they leave a sting behind,
And make a wreck of peace.

Can stately palaces or halls,

Can midnight masques or festive balls,
True happiness impart?

Those transient scenes which charm the mind,
Ideal prove, and undefin'd,

The

Corruptive of the heart.

One common fate we all must share,-
gay, the grave, the young, the fair,
Are hast'ning to the tomb;

All there must undistinguish'd lie,
And of a long eternity

Receive the final doom.

L.

TO LAURA.

Oh! pulchram' faciem! deleo dehinc omnes ex animo mulieres Tædet quotidianarum harum formarum.-TERENCE.

I've seen Maria's eye of blue,

So brightly, deeply shine;

Her rosy cheeks' bewitching hue;
To her I swore I would be true,
And woo'd her to be mine.

I've gaz'd on Fanny's raven hair,
And eye of darkest jet ;

Her sylph-like form, and cheek so fair,
I lov'd her once; and I declare
My task was to forget.

I've seen Clarissa's locks-they wave
In ringlets o'er her brow;

Those ringlets bound me as a slave ;—
But sunk into a silent grave—
She is forgotten now.

In short, I've seen the debonair,
The mournful, and the glad;

The dark brunette, the snow-white fair-
With tearful eye, or lively air-
The joyous and the sad.

But, Laura, since I've gaz'd on these,
I've seen a lovelier far-

Sweet as the spring's refreshing breeze,
That gently woos the rustling trees,
When shines the ev'ning star.

Her piercing glance, her beaming eye,
Inspir'd a warmer flame-

Who would not love, when she is nigh?
She seems an angel from on high;

You need not ask her name.

F. DARLINGTON.

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