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By what rosy fetters bound,

By what spell in witchcraft found;
Sages, heroes, and divines,

Kneel before thy gaudy shrines ?

Whence derived that unknown charm,

Which e'en Avrice can disarm ;

And with ridicule combin'd,

Almost shakes the firmest mind ?

Not alone the courtly dame,

Throthy influence hopes for fame;

In the distant hamlet see,

Some poor milk-maid worship thee.

Thy commands, howe’er unjust,
Trample Nature in the dust;
View the mother, gay and wild,
Slight for thee, her darling child.

View the rash, advent'rous boy,

Lurd by ev'ry gilded toy;

Madly squander hard-earn'd wealth,
Shipwreck ease, and ruin health.

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“When his song, th' Helvetian hears,

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“What with rapture more can thrill, “When at midnight all is still, “ Than the tale of Troy divine, “ Or the Mantuan's polish'd line.

“What to pleasure more give birth,

“ Than the sound of infant mirth;

66 Than the soft domestic hour,

“ Natal feast, or nuptial bower?

Manly virtue then recall, “ To each grey, paternal hall;

- Make our nobles, as of old,

“ Hardy, gen’rous, frank, and bold;

“ Make us, if th' Almighty's will, “ Rise in arms, triumphant still;

“ In the gentler arts of peace,

“Rival Italy, or Greece.”

SONNET UPON A VINE,

BROUGHT FROM THE TEMPLE OF ISIS, AT POMPEII, AND

PLANTED IN THE AUTHOR'S GARDEN.

“ All good grow with thee !
“In thy days, may each man eat in safety,
“ Under his own Vine-that which he plants,
“ And chaunt the song of peace to all his neighbours."

Shakespeare.

How many a vision fills the mind,

And many a thought recalls !
As thy parch'd foliage with the wind,

In quick succession falls.

Brought from Italia's sunny clime,

And Baia's fertile shore;

Forgive the Minstrel's feeble rhyme,

(Whom folly tempts to soar.)

Who fondly wishes to survey,

Parthenope's rich plain ; Recall Sorrento’s lovely bay,

And far-fam'd tideless main.

O’er ruin'd Isis' mould'ring shrine,

(Tho' ages now long past,) Where Egypt's Seer-miscall'd divine,

Foretold the awful blast.

Foretold the mountain's fiery stream,

With voice profane and loud;

"Till woke from superstition's dream,

He perish'd in the crowd.

Thy parent boughs conceal'd the fair,

(By great Osiris taught ;) When fresh as morn and light as air,

The sacred dome they sought.

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