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Round Royal mis’ry wav'd his Guardian wing,
Care defy, And heartfelt pleasure beams from ev'ry eye; Nay, more the happy mansion to illume, Where Genius sparkles, and the Graces bloom?
TO A LADY,
WITH THE SONNETS OF PETRARCH.
IN THE MANNER OF SPENSER.
O GENTILE Nymph, of Cornish lond the Queen,
[love: Whom all our youth behold with rapt'rous Whose heart eclipseth e’en thy beauty's sheen, Read PETRARCH's sorrows, and with tears
approve: A tear from thee, surpassing all his fame, Embalms with immortality his name.
At Petrarch's fate the heart with grief mote
glow, Who frequent woo'd the Fair, but woo'd in vain: Thy turtle eyen in streames will certes flow
At sorrows, that for peerless Laura plain, When pale entomb’d her lovely limbs were laid, And redbreasts sooth'd with ditties sweet her shade. Rash bard! What folly taught thine eyen to gaze
Onher, who ne'er could bless thy longing arms ? What dæmon urg’d thee midst her beauty's blaze,
Bereft of smallest hope to win her charms ? Well did thine heart deserve sic mickle woes, That lost in wild romaunce its dear repose.
Yet, PETRARCH ! like thyself, a Bard betray'd
By smiles of Beauty, Wisdom's voice I slight; Hopeless I glote upon as fair a maid
As ever charm’d the golden eye of light. Then let me blame no more thy lovelvrn line, Perchaunce thy LAURA mote compare with
THE HARE AND MANY FRIENDS.
FRIENDSHIP, like love, is but a name,
A Hare who, in a civil way,
As forth she went at early dawn, To taste the dew-besprinkled lawn,
Behind she hears the hunter's cries,
What transport in her bosum grew, When first the Horse appear'd in view!
“ Let me,” says she, “ your back ascend, And owe my safety to a friend. You know my feet betray my flight: To friendship every burden’s light.”
The Horse reply'd, “ Poor honest Puss, It grieves my heart to see thee thus : Be comforted, relief is near, For all your friends are in the rear.”