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Now, by the Pow'rs o' Verse and Profe! Thou art a dainty chield, O Grose! Whae'er o’thee shall ill suppose,
They sair misca’ thee; I'd take the rascal by the nose,
Wad say, Shame fa’ thee.
Miss C*********, a very young Lady.
Written on the blank leaf of a Book, presented
to her by the Author.
BEAUTEOUS rose-bud, young
Never, never reptile thief
Mayst thou long, sweet crimson gem,
ANNA, thy charms my bofom fire,
And waste my soul with care; But ah! how bootless to admire,
When fated to despair !
Yet in thy presence, lovely Fair,
To hope may be forgiv'n;
So much in light of Heav'n.
On reading, in a NEWSPAPER, the DEATH
of J—M'L---, Esq. BROTHER to a YOUNG LADY, a particular FRIEND of the AUTHOR's.
SAD thy tale, thou idle page,
And rueful thy alarms :
From Isabella's arms.
Sweetly deckt with pearly dew
The morning rose may blow; But cold successive noontide blasts
May lay its beauties low.