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Yet not confin'd to rank or place;
Rich, noble, low, or poor ;
We worship figure, mind, or face,
Some secret unknown lure.
Then woman's magic spell admit,
Her fabled Cestus own;
Which makes the Mitre e'en submit,
And triumph o'er the Throne.
LEAVING THE VILLA OF A NEAR CONNECTION.
“ Two urns by Jove's high throne have ever stood,
WHILE Heav'n's high will directs our fate, From rural life to regal State ;
Controls that star, whose sovereign sway,
All from their cradle must obey.
Behold poor man's eventful doom,
How many a hero works the loom !
How many an Euclid in the mine,
For daily bread must delve and pine !
How many a flower remains unblown,
And many a vein of wealthy ore,
How many a drudge consign'd to trade, Might have embellish’d Oxford's shade ; While many a Poet, lost to fame,
Had rear'd a Pope, or Dryden's name !
How many a driv'ller steers the helm,
, And many a title decks a knave.
Last, many a sage in crape and lawn, ,
Whose elevation as we rue,
Proves the old Swedish Statesman true.*
*“Quam parvâ sapientiâ regitur mundus !"
Oxensteirn to his son, upon the Congress of Westphalia.
THE VILLA OF A NEAR CONNECTION,
And ere again we view these walls,
In many a fair and blooming face,
Full many a damsel will be wed,
And blushing to the altar led;
While many a female breast will mourn,
For some fond tie abruptly torn.
There'll many an hour be pass’d with glee,
Still they reveal some source of joy,
The future leave to grave divines,
Who delve in theologic mines;
Content, if we enraptur'd meet,
Again this hospitable seat.
The gen'rous owners frank and true,
Their heart the same we ever knew;
Sincere, benevolent, and kind,
To all our faults and follies blind.
With them forgetting noise and care,