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Then heap the fire-shut out the biting air,
OH! thou most fatal of Pandora's train,
Nor mark'st thy course with Death's delusive dye,
O'er life's soft springs thy venom dost diffuse, And, while thou givest new lustre to the eye,
While o'er the cheek are spread health's ruddy hues, E'en then life's little rest thy cruel power subdues.
Oft I've beheld thee in the glow of youth,
Hid 'neath the blushing roses which there bloom'd, And dropt a tear, for then thy cankering tooth I knew would never stay, till, all consum'd, In the cold vault of death he were entomb'd.
But oh! what sorrow did I feel, as swift,
Through fair Lucina's breast of whitest snow,
And soon she calmly sunk in death's repugnant trance.
Even when her end was swiftly drawing near,
That none who saw her but admiring said,
TO CAPEL LOFFT, ESQ.
LOFFT, unto thee one tributary song
The simple Muse, admiring, fain would bring; She longs to lisp thee to the listening throng, And with thy name to bid the woodlands ring. Fain would she blazon all thy virtues forth,
Thy warm philanthropy, thy justice mild, Would say how thou didst foster kindred worth,
And to thy bosom snatch'd Misfortune's child : Firm she would paint thee, with becoming zeal, Upright, and learned, as the Pylian sire, Would say how sweetly thou could'st sweep the lyre, And shew thy labours for the public weal,
Ten thousand virtues tell with joys supreme,
But ah! she shrinks abash'd before the arduous theme.