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“ Swift to the Congress with my freight “ I'll speed, and on their heads its weight

“ Souse with such skill and care ; “ That Purinam, WASHINGTON beneath, “ And gasping LEE, shall wish to breathe

“ A pint of Priestley's air.

“ The deed is done, thy foes are dead, “No longer, ENGLAND, shalt thou dread

“ Such Presbyterian huffers: “ Thy candle's radiance ne'er shall fade, “With now and then a little aid

“ From Pinchbeck's patent snuffers.”

TO THE DUCHESS OF ROXBURGH,

ON HER ARRIVAL AT FLEURS.

BY A DRYAD.

O FAIR-ONE, welcome to our scene,

Where Freedom waves her easy plumes ; Where Plenty holds her golden reign,

And triumphs in a thousand blooms!

Young Health shall meet thy steps at morn,

And lead thee through the breezy glade; While NATURE's Minstrels, from the thorn,

Salute thy way from shade to shade.

And, hark! old Tweed's exulting voice!

“ Tho' Health and FREEDOM bless’d the “ And Plenty bade the vales rejoice, (groves,

One Charm was wanting still !--the Loves !

But lo! to grace my verdant side,

“ At length the smiling Guests appear ; “ To bid my stream exalt its pride,

“ And RAPTURE rule the rolling year.”

Such is the song of grateful TWEED;

And should the scene thy stay incline, Our DRYAD BANDS, the rural reed,

With all our shades, and grots, are thine.

A FAIRY TALE.

BY PARNELL.

IN THE ANCIENT ENGLISII STYLE.

IN Britain's isle, and Arthur's days, When midnight Fairies daunc'd the maze,

Liv'd Edwin of the Green ; Edwin, I wis, a gentle youth, Endow'd with courage, sense, and truth,

Though badly shap'd he'd been.

His mountain back mote well be said,
To measure height against his head,

And lift itself above;
Yet, spite of all that Nature did
To make his uncouth form forbid,

This creature dar'd to love.

He felt the charms of Edith's eyes,
Nor wanted hope to gain the prize,

Could ladies look within;
But one Sir Topaz dress’d with art,
And, if a shape could win a heart,

He had a shape to win.

Edwin, if right I read my song,
With slighted passion pac'd along

All in the moony light; .
’T was near an old enchanted court,
Where sportive fairies made resort

To revel out the night.

His heart was drear, his hope was cross’d, ’T was late, ’t was far, the path was lost

That reach'd the neighbour-town; With weary steps he quits the shades, Resolv'd, the darkļing dome he treads,

And drops his limbs adown.

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