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TO MISS AURELIA C--R,
ON HER WEEPING AT HER SISTER'S WEDDING.
Cease, fair Aurelia, cease to mourn,
Lament not Hannah's happy state ; You may be happy in your turn,
And seize the treasure you regret.
With Love united Hymen stands,
And softly whispers to your charms, “ Meet but your lover in my bands,
You'll find your sister in his arms.”
When Phæbe form'd a wanton smile,
My soul ! it reach'd not here :
Before a rising tear!
That o'er those eyelids rove :
The fabled queen of love.
Young Damon of the vale is dead,
Ye lowly hamlets, moan;
And at his feet a- stone.
His shroud, which Death's cold damps destroy, 5
Of snow white threads was made : All mourn’d to see so sweet a boy
In earth for ever laid.
Pale pansies o'er his corpse were placed,
Which, pluck'd before their time, Bestrew'd the boy, like him to waste
And wither in their prime.
But will he ne'er return, whose tongue
Could tune the rural lay? Ah, no! his bell of
rung, His lips are cold as clay.
Ver. 2. Ye lowland hamlets, moan;
They bore him out at twilight hour,
The youth who loved so well:
Of kind remembrance fell!
Each maid was wod—but Lucy chief,
Her grief o'er all was tried ;
And o'er her loved one died.
ON OUR LATE TASTE IN MUSIC.
Quid vocis modulamen inane juvabat
BRITONS ! away with the degenerate pack !
your own, Then tuneful Robinson, and Tofts were known; Then Purcell touch'd the strings, while numbers
a Now Countess-dowager of Peterborough.
Nor yet, while guardian Phæbus gilds our isle, Does heaven averse await the muses' toil; Cherish but once our worth of native race, The sister-arts shall soon display their face! Even half discouraged through the gloom they
strive, Smile at neglect, and o’er oblivion live. See Handel, careless of a foreign fame, Fix on our shore, and boast a Briton's name : While, placed marmoric in the vocal grove, He guides the measures listening throngs approve. Mark silence at the voice of Arne confess'd, Soft as the sweet enchantress rules the breast; As when transported Venice lent an ear, Camilla's charms to view, and accents hear!" So while she varies the impassion'd song, Alternate motions on the bosom throng! As heavenly Miltond guides her magic voice, And virtue thus convey'd allures the choice.
Discard soft nonsense in a slavish tongue, The strain insipid, and the thought unknown; From truth and nature form the unerring test ; 35 Be what is manly, chaste, and good the best! 'Tis not to ape the songsters of the groves, Through all the quiverings of their wanton loves. 'Tis not the enfeebled thrill, or warbled shake, The heart can strengthen, or the soul awake! 40
Vide the Spectator's Letters from Camilla, vol. vi. Milton's Comus lately revived.