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Yet say, our footsteps who can guide,
Delusion's dream dispel ; Destroy that vanity and pride,
Which fill the humblest dell.
Pray then, avaunt ! ye Cynic crew,
Whom nothing can delight;
Tho' Nature shines in lov'liest hue,
Ye turn her charms to night.
Whate'er the object or the scene,
To you appears
If mirth displays her laughing mien,
Or honour points to fame.
One parting glass, oh ! let us share,
And former days recall ;
Who grac'd the festive hall.
Again retrace the absent friends,
Dispers’d o'er many a clime; While her soft magic, Mem'ry lends,
And scorns the march of Time.
The banquet to inspire ;
When public contests tire.
One parting kiss, oh! don't refuse,
A pledge of future joy;
Chaste as the fam'd Pierian Muse,
Nor Dian could annoy.
Dispel the tear that trembling fills,
That rapture-beaming eye; Dispel those dark foreboding ills,
Nor heave the pensive sigh.
Bid Hope her golden dream revive,
And thro' her heav'nly view;
The lingʻring moments will arrive,
Each pleasure to renew.
And humbly bowing to that Power,
Which all admit divine;
Long may we brighten each dull hour,
With Friendship, Love, and Wine.
SQUIRREL, CLIMBING A TREE,
UNDER WHICH A FAVOURITE TERRIER HAD BEEN BURIED.
Taou playful tenant of this shelter'd grove,
Whose nimble steps, the dewy woodlands rove!
No fierce intruder marks with eager eye,
Where thy poor nest and humble offspring lie.
Enjoy that boon, by gracious Heav'n decreed,
To all that cleave the billow or the air,
(Not one beneath its providential care ;)
Survey the copse, explore the flow'ry plain,
For in this silent, this romantic glade,
Could once exhilarate a lonesome hour.
For him these woods, alas ! no more can please,
No more with joy he scents the tainted breeze;
Or when departing from the rustic hall,
As rural pastimes and retirement pall,
Prove that one being, will our absence mourn.
With many a flower—the Lares strew'd his mould,