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An heart that scorns a shameful thing,
If all whate'er my verse has told, Golconda's gems, and Afric's gold; If all were mine from pole to pole, How large her share who shares my soul ? But more than these may Heaven impart; Be thine the treasures of the heart; Be calm, and glad thy future days With Virtue’s peace, and Virtue's praise. Let jealous Pride, and sleepless Care, And wasting Grief, and black Despair, And Languor chill, and Anguish fell, For ever shun thy grove and cell ; There only may the happy train Of Love, and Joy, and Peace, remain : May Plenty, with exhaustless store, Employ thy hand to feed the poor, And ever on thy honor'd lead The
prayer of Gratitude be shed.
A happy mother may’st thou see Thy smiling virtuous progeny, Whose sportful tricks, and airy play, Fraternal love, and prattle gay,
Or wond'rous tale, or joyful song May lure the lingering hours along, Till Death arrive, unfelt, unseen, With gentle pace, and placid mien, And waft thee to that happy shore, Where wishes can have place no more.
A YOUNG LADY,
ON JER PLAYING UPON THE HARPSICHORD,
In a Room hung with some Flow T. Pieces of her own Painting.
By the Same.
When STELLA strikes the tuneful string
When charms thus press on every sense,
And forming, with unerring art,
Mark, when from thousand mingled dyes, Thou seest one pleasing form arise, How active liglit, and thoughtful shade, In greater scenes each other aid; Mirk, when the different notes agree. In friendly contrariety, How passion's well-accorded strife Gives all the harmony of life, Thy pictures shall thy conduct frame, Consistent still, though not the same, Thy music teach the nobler art, To tune the regulated heart,
Where the loveliest expression to features is join'd,
gaze without rapture on Amoret's eyes ;