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Ye fairer Delias! choose the better part,
Nor slight the youth who gives you all his heart;
But crown with mutual love the generous Aame,
And happier Hammonds shall record your name.

TO

A YOUNG LADY,

ON HER

PRESENTING THE AUTHOR

WITH A LOCK OF HER HAIR.

By the Same.

The Poets (fabling tribe !) aver,
That once the ruthless God of War,
(Who, bred amid the din of arms,
Defy'd the power of Beauty's charms,
And long had, proudly, scorn’d to wear
The pleasing fetters of the Fair)
Struck with the graceful air and mien,
And roseate bloom of Cyprus’ Queen ;
His savage fierceness all forbore,
Subdued by Venus' magic lore;
And soon became, her power to prove,
A convert to the force of Love.

The wily Goddess then, 'tis said, All with an heavenly-temper'd braid

Of net-work, circled him around,
And to her snowy bosom bound;
Secur'd the conquest of her eyes,
And, by the rulers of the skies,
From the fierce God of War so tam'd,
Thenceforth was BEAUTY's GODDESS nam'd.

Thus

say

the Poets—who in fiction,
In figure, and in contradiction
To all the laws of modest Nature,
Trick out a strange romantic creature,
Which, after all, they quaintly feign,
No where exists, but in the brain.

Might I the genuine truth reveal,
And would you listen to the tale ;
Would you, indulgently, supply
Whate'er Į pass in silence by-
Whose was the dull, insensate breast,
Which Beauty's power at length confessid
Who soon became, that power to prove,
A convert to the force of love :
Would you conceive who 'tis I mean
The rest 'twere easy to explain :

“ The heavenly net-work, Venus' snare,
Was this—A RINGLET OF HER HAIR :
And She, to give her all her due,
Some faint resemblance was of you."

TO

A LADY,

MAKING A PIN-BASKET,

BY

SIR JAMES MARRIOT.

While objects of a parent's care
With joy your fond attention share,
Madam, accept th' auspicious strain;
Nor rise your beauteous work in vain :
Oft be your second race survey'd,
And oft a new pin-basket made.

When marriage was in all its glory, (So Poets, madam, tell the story,) Ere Plutus damp'd love's purer flame, Or Smithfield bargains had a name, In Heav'n a blooming youth and bride At Hymen's altars were ally'd; When Cupid had his Psyche won, And, all her destin'd labors done, The cruel Fates their rage relented, And mamma Venus had consented.

At Jove's command, and Hermes' call, The train appear'd to fill the hall, And gods and goddesses were drest, To do them honor, in their best. The little rogues now pass’d the row, And look'd and mov'd I don't know how, And, ambling hand in hand, appear Before the mighty Thunderer. Low at his throne they bent the knee : He smild the blushing pair to see, Laid his tremendous bolt aside, And strok'd their cheeks, and kissid the bride,

Says Juno, since our Jove's so kind,
My dear, some present I must find.
In greatest pleasures, greatest dangers,
We and the sex were never strangers ;
With bounteous hand my gifts. I spread,
Presiding o’er the marriage-bed.
Soon, for the months are on the wing,
To you a daughter fair I bring,
And know, from this your nuptial morn.
Shall Pleasure, smiling babe, be born.
But for the babe we must prepare ;
That too shall be your Juno's care.
Apollo from his golden lyre
Shall first assist us with the wire;
Vulcan shall make the silver pin :
The basket thus we shall begin,

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