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WITH A PRESENT OF A KNIFE.
A Knife, dear Girl, cuts love they say Mere modish love, perhaps it may ; For any tool of any kind, Can sep'rate what was never join'd. The Knife that cuts our love in two, Will have much tougher work to do: Must cut your softness, worth and spirit Down to the vulgar size of merit ; To level your's with modern taste, Must cut a world of sense to waste; And from your single beauty's store, Clip what would dizen out a score. The self-same blade from me must sever Sensation, judgment, sight, for ever ; All mem'ry of endearments past, All hope of comforts long to last, All that makes fourteen years with you, A Summer,--and a short one too :)
All that affection feels, and fears,
ON THE LATE
ANNIVERSARY OF HIS WEDDING-DAY,
TO HIS WIFE,
WITH A RING AND THE FOLLOWING LINES.
By the Same.
Thee, MARY, with this ring I wed," So sixteen years ago I said Behold another ring !-"For what?" “ To wed thee o'er again,—why not?"
With the first ring I married Youth, Grace, Beauty, Innocence, and Truth; Taste long admir’d, Sense long rever'd: And all my MOLLY then appear'd.
If she, by merit since disclos'd,
Here then, to-day, (with faith as sure,
For why?-They shew me hour by hour Honor's high thought, Affection's pow'r, Discretion's deed, sound Judgment's sentence: And teach me all things—but Repentance !
A YOUNG LADY,
SEEING HER DANCE.
BY PETER PINNEL, M. A.
O! MAY you walk, as years advance, Smooth and erect, as now you dance; May you on each important stage, From bloom of youth to wither'd age, Assert your claim to Merit's prize; And, as at present, charm our eyes ; Observant of Decorum's laws, And moving with the same applause, May you, thro' life's perplexing maze, Direct your steps with equal praise ; Its intricate meanders trace With regularity and grace ; From the true figure never swerve, And time in every step observe ; Give ear to harmony and reason, Nor make one motion out of season!