V.

But, dearest Toм! these days are past,
And we are in a climate caft

Where few the mufe can relish;

Where all the doctrine now that's told,

Is that a fhining heap of gold

Alone can man embellish.

VI.

Then fince 'tis thus, my honeft friend,
If you be wife, my strain attend,

And counsel fage adhere to;

With me, henceforward, join the crowd,
And like the reft proclaim aloud,

That MONEY is all VIRTUE!

VII.

Then may we both, in time, retreat
To fome fair villa, fweetly neat,

To entertain the muses;

And then life's noife and trouble leave

Supremely bleft, we'll never grieve

At what the world refuses.

A SONG

S

A

N

G

Το MIRA; ON PART IN G.

ΑΝ

I.

CAN my MIRA leave her lover?

Two long-ling'ring months to part-
World of time! Thou gentle rover,
Where, O where's thy tender heart?

II.

Wilt thou thus thy person sever

From my eyes and from my arms?

For two tedious months, I never

More fhall view thy heav'nly charms!

III.

When, in fome fair ftreams meander,

Thou thy beauteous looks fhall trace, May fweet echo cry," Philander "Claims, as his, that angel-face."

IV. When

IV.

When thou tread'ft, in blooming luftre,
Some gay meadow's flow'ry side,
And gay youths arr und thee cluster,
To behold fair Nature's pride;

V.

Then, Oh then, my Mira! mind thee
To beware each fhepherd's art;

Know that heav'n and love defign'd thee
Mistress of Philander's heart.

VI.

Then remember each sweet hour
That in pleafing pain we've spent,
When Cupid, in triumphant pow'r,
Thro' our hearts his arrows fent.

VII.

Think, how by each other fighing,
We confefs'd the mutual flame,
Looking, melting, panting, dying-
Joy was then too weak a name!

VIII. Think

VIII.

Think on these, and never yield thee

To a heart lefs true than mine;

Then fhall heav'n's bright angels fhield thee,
As a being half-divine!

STILL

Each circling year, you claim our humble rhyme; But where's the muse whose fiery numbers best, Shall rouze heroic ardor in each breaft?

Το

*It is a custom in Philadelphia, for the lads that deliver out the news-papers, to present to the customers, on New-Year's Day, a copy of verfes, reciting fome of the moft fignal occurrences and tranfactions of the paft year, for which they commonly receive a fmall gratuity. Thefe verfes are generally the compofition of fuch young Bards as the printers lads can make interest with. Mr. Evans was prevailed upon to write for 1762, 1763; but as the principal occurrences of thofe years were the subject

of

To wing the flight where conqueft leads the way,
Tranfcends our fong, and mocks the feeble lay.
Such themes fublime best suit a rapt'rous lyre,
And bards tranfported with poetic fire-
Yet when infpir'd with Britain's glorious fame,
What bofom glows not with the hallow'd flame?

When angry Gallia pour'd her hoftile train,
Intent on plunder, o'er th' Atlantic main;
Strangers to arms, we knew no murd'rous art,
Nor crimson faulchion, nor the pois'nous dart,
From earliest youth, inftructed to abhor
The deadly engines of deftructive war;

The cannon's found, as dire affail'd our ears,
As Jove's red thunder, when he shakes the fpheres.

Yet to our aid when mighty Brunswick came, It kindled in each breaft the martial flame; Undaunted as our warlike troops advance,

To walls, inglorious, fhrink the fons of France; Their cities ftorm'd, their chiefs in fetters bound, And their proud ramparts levell'd with the ground.

O'er

of fome of his odes, the repetition of several of the fame thoughts became almost unavoidable. And indeed, thefe New-Years'-Day productions, are to be confidered rather as good-natur'd compliances of the Mufe, than the true and genuine fruits of her infpiration.