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STANZAS ON WOMAN.
WHEN lovely woman stoops to folly,
And finds too late that men betray, What charm can soothe her melancholy,
What art can wash her guilt away?
The only art her guilt to cover,
To hide her shame from every eye, To give repentance to her lover,
And wring his bosom-is-to die.
DESCRIPTION OF AN AUTHOR'S BED-CHAMBER.
W HERE the Red Lion staring o'er the way,
Invites each passing stranger that can pay ;
Intended to have been sung by Miss Hardcastle in
the Comedy of " She Stoops to Conquer.”
Lovers are plenty, but fail to relieve me;
A MIDST the clamor of exulting joys, 4. Which triumph forces from the patriot heart, Grief dares to mingle her soul-piercing voice,
And quells the raptures which from pleasure start. O Wolfe, to thee a streaming flood of woe,
Sighing we pay, and think e'en conquest dear; Quebec in vain shall teach our breasts to glow,
Whilst thy sad fate extorts the heart-wrung tear. Alive, the foe thy dreadful vigor fled,
And saw thee fall, with joy-pronouncing eyes : Yet they shall know thou conquerest, tho' dead :
Since from thy tomb a thousand heroes rise.
On Dr. Parnell.
Celestial themes confest his tuneful aid ;
On Edward Purdon.*
I don't think he'll wish to come back.
Mrs. Mary Blaize.
Lament for Madam Blaize, Who never wanted a good word
From those who spoke her praise. The needy seldom pass'd her door,
And always found her kind; She freely lent to all the poor, Who left a pledge behind.
# This gentleman was educated at Trinity College, Dublla; but having wasted his patrimony, he enlisted as a foot.sol dier. Growing tired of that employment, he obtained his discharge, and became a scribbler in the newspapers, He translated Yoltaire's Henriade.
She strove the neighbourhood to please,
With manners wond'rous winning; And never follow'd wicked ways,
Unless when she was sinning.
At church, in silks and satins new,
With hoop of monstrous size, - She never slumber'd in her pew,
But when she shut her eyes.
Her love was sought, I do aver,
By twenty beaux and more ;
But now her wealth and finery fled,
Her hangers-on cut short all;
Let us lament, in sorrow sore,
For Kent-street well may say,
WEEPING, murmuring, complaining,
" Lost to every gay delight, Myra, too sincere for feigning,
Fears th' approaching bridal night.
Yet why impair thy bright perfection?
Or dim thy beauty with a tear ?
She long had wanted cause of fear.
FROM THE ORATORIO OF THE CAPTIVITY.
THE wretch, condemn'd with life to part,
Still, still on hope relies ;
Bids expectation rise.
Hope, like the glimm'ring taper's light,
Adorns and cheers the way;
Emits a brighter ray.
Still importunate and vain,
And turning all the past to pain ;
Thou, like the world, the opprest oppressing,
Thy smiles increase the wretch's woe! And he who wants each other blessing,
In thee must ever find a foe.