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While the spread fan o'ershades your clofing eyes; -e housi
Then give one flirt, and all the vision flies. bohea, Thus vanish sceptres, coronets and balls,
And leave you in lone woods, or empty walls. pon,
So when your flave, at some, dear idle time, 4 at 100. (Not plagu'd with headachs, or the want of rhyme) Eire,
Stands in the streets, abstracted from the crew, cuse;
And while he seems to study, thinks of you:
Juft when his fancy points your fprightly eyes,
Vext to be fill in town, I knit my brow,
- NORCA m the sky
AUTHOR of a POEM,
EN TITUL E D,
Egone, ye critics, and restrain your spite;
Codrus writes on, and will for ever write;
The heaviest muse the swiftest course has gone, As clocks run fastest when moft lead is on. What tho' no bees around your cradle flew; Nor on your lips distilld their golden dew, Yet have we oft' discover'd in their stead A swarm of drones that buzz'd about
head. When you, like Orpheus, strike the warbling lyre, Attentive blocks stand round you, and admire.
Wit, pass'd thro' thee, no longer is the same,
On a FAN of the Author's Design, in which was painted the Story of CEPHALUS and PROCRIS, with the Motto, Aura Veni.
YOME, gentle air! th' Æolian shepherd said,
While Procris panted in the secret shade;
Come, gentle air, the fairer Delia cries,
SILENCE, In Imitation of the style of the late
E. of R.
Thou wert, e'er nature first began to be,
Thine was the sway, e'er heav'n was form’d, or
earth, E'er fruitful thought conceiv'd creation's birth, Or inidwife wordgave aid, and spoke the infant forth.