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Two servants arm'd are by his foeman's side,
Each the white cross of massacre display'd;
Follow me Regnier! sternly Vezius cried,

And Regnier heard and hopelessly obey'd.

They reach the walls, four horses there await, Mount! Vezins cried, and follow me with speed! And up he sprung and left the city gate,

And Regnier must obey and spurs his steed.

And now they see the towers of Querci near, Where both had learnt to hate each other first, Where mutual injuries for many a year

The mutual hope of vengeance long had nurst.

They enter Regnier's gate,-what better hour
For vengeance, Vezins cried, could fate allow?
Regnier this night has placed thee in my power.
My enemy-thou art in safety now.

For man to man in field of equal strife
Should brave and honourable foes contend;
And therefore Regnier have I saved thy life
That arms our quarrel, when thou wilt, may end,


Stunn'd overcome the Hugonot essay'd
For life preserv'd his gratitude to show,
He owns a debt that cannot be repaid,

And begs the friendship of his noble foe.

Love me or hate me-sternly Vezins cried,
I saved thee from the death devoted train,
That at thy leisure safely to decide.

He said, and spurr'd his courser o'er the plain.


A delicate pinch! oh how it tingles up
The titillated nose, and fills the eyes
And breast, till in one comfortable sneeze
The full collected pleasure bursts at last!
Most rare Columbus! thou shalt be for this
The only Christopher in my Kalendar.
Why but for thee the uses of the Nose
Were half unknown, and its capacity

Of joy. The summer gale that from the heath,
At midnoon glittering with the golden furze,
Bears its balsamic odours, but provokes
Not satisfies the sense; and all the flowers,
That with their unsubstantial fragrance tempt
And disappoint, bloom for so short a space,
That half the year the Nostrils would keep Lent,
But that the kind Tobacconist admits

No winter in his work; when Nature sleeps
His wheels roll on and still administer

A plenitude of joy, a tangible smell.

What is Peru and those Brazilian mines
To thee Virginia? miserable realms
They furnish gold for knaves and gems for fools,
But thine are common comforts! to omit
Pipe-panegyric and tobacco praise,

Think what the general joy the snuff-box gives,
Europe, and far above Pizarro's name
Write Raleigh in thy records of renown!
Him let the school-boy bless if he behold
His master's box produced, for when he sees
The thumb and finger of Authority

Stufft up the nostrils, when hat, head, and wig
Shake all, when on the waistcoat black the dust
Or drop falls brown, soon shall the brow severe
Relax, and from vituperative lips

Words that of birch remind not, sounds of praise,
And jokes that must be laugh'd at shall proceed.



Will she, whose hands these pensive lines shall meet,
Waste on this artless page one casual glance,
On me one transient thought?-thy promise sweet,
Insidious Hope, is all the sport of Chance!

Will she, whose eyes, bright with celestial fire,
To marble apathy a soul might lend,
Forgive the rashness which her smiles inspire,
And kind compassion with her pardon blend ?

Whatever scenes those peerless eyes employ,

If sylvan shades, if gorgeous courts they bless, Long may they keep the lambent flame of joy ;Dimm'd by no tears, but tears of tenderness!

Such holy drops may Anna's cheek adorn!
Such holy drops with Heaven's own lustre shine,
Purer, than dew that glitters on the thorn,

More precious than the gems of India's mine!

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