As my poor intellect, or thine,
May scan authority divine-

In short, I'd have our simple love,
Not against reason, but above.

Two birds, suppose, of various feather, Hung in one room by chance together. To airs melodious tune their voices, While each the other's ear rejoices: If, without half a note erroneous, The song be perfectly harmonious, What matter for the forms or ages, Of bills, of feathers, and of cages?

DEAN SWIFT, whose talent lives no more, His Stella sung at forty-four;

And breath'd an idle wish to split
In twain her beauty, years, and wit-
Of half her charms he made a proffer
For youth; but Time disdain'd his offer.
Far happier I, who well could spare,
Of each accomplishment a share,
Yet leave an ample store of charms,
To bring Elysium to my arms,

Am not reduc'd those charms to barter,
And cry to heedless Time for quarter—
Fly, Sluggard, on thy swiftest wing,
My charmer yields not All till Spring!

Then, firm in Constancy's reliance,
I bid thy cruel scythe defiance;
Deal when thou wilt the deadly blow,
Thou canst but separate below,
Thy first can but for moments sever,
Thy second re-unites for ever.

Perhaps, suspending mortal rage, By silent sap, and creeping age, By subtile, secret slow approaches, As mildew on the blade incroaches, Thou hop'st, malignant fiend! to tame The ardor of love's fiercest flameVain shalt thou find thy keenest blast, Bliss once possess'd, thy power is past. Can years, while sense remains, destroy The memory of transcendent joy? Can years bright innocence impair? Can years make Virtue look less fair?

But Beauty, by thy influence curst, May sicken-Tyrant, do thy worst! I know thy power, and am prepar'd To meet thy sharpest darts unscar'd. Though Body, Mind, thou canst control, Own thy survivor in the Soul; Whose perfect bliss is not enjoy'd, Till thou art utterly destroy'd.

Ev'n here, as health and beauty fail, While lilies o'er the rose prevail, Long ere thy menac'd ills can harm, Though every hour should steal a charmLong ere, by twenty stars a day, The spangled Heavens would wear away.

Unconscious of the gradual wane, As years their empire slowly gain, While my Ideas, in the race, Observe a due-proportioned pace, And limbs grow cold, and senses faulter, I sha'nt perceive her Person alter. When Age her dimpled cheek beguiles, And wrinkles plants, instead of smiles, Though every Cupid he should smother, I'll think her handsome as their mother. When, steady to his barbarous plan, To spoil my lovely MARY-ANNE, The savage unrelenting creature Has robb'd her face of every feature, And, to conceptions merely common, My charmer seems a plain old woman, Still in my heart she'll hold her throne, Still in my eyes be twenty-one.

ΤΟ

CORINNA,

BY

EARL NUGENT.

WHILE I those hard commands obey,
Which tear me from thee far away;
Never did yet love-tortur'd youth,
So dearly prove his doubted truth;
For never woman charm'd like thee,
And never man yet lov'd like me.

All creatures whom fond flames inspire, Pursue the object they desire; But I, prepost'rous doom! must prove By distant flight the strongest love; And ev'ry way distress'd by fate, Must lose thy sight, or meet thy hate.

ΤΟ

CAMILLA,

By the Same.

WEARY'D with indolent repose,
A life unmix'd with joys or woes;
Where all the lazy moments crept,
And every passion sluggish slept;
I wish'd for love's inspiring pains,
To rouze the loiterer in my veins.
Th' officious power my call attends,
He who uncall'd his succour lends;
And with a smile of wanton spite,
He gave Camilla to my sight.
Her eyes their willing captive seize,
Her look, her air, her manner please;
New beauties please, unseen before,
Or seen, in her they please me more;
And soon, too soon, alas! I find
The virtues of a nobler kind.

Now cheerful springs the morning ray, Now cheerful sinks the closing day;