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A CHARM FOR ENNUI.
YE Couples who meet under love's smiling star,
Let the muse's gay lyre, like Ithuriel's bright spear, Keep this fiend, ye sweet brides, from approaching your ear,
Since you know this squat toad an infernal Esprit,
Let no gloom of your hall, let no shade of your bower, Make you think you behold this malevolent power; Like a child in the dark what fear you will see, Take courage, away-'tis the phantom Ennui.
O trust me, your powers both of person and mind, To defend from this foe full sufficient you'll find, Should your eyes fail to kill him, with keen repartee You can sink the flat boat of the invader Ennui.
If a cool nonchalance o'er your spouses should spread, (For vapours will rest e'en on Jupiter's head) O! ever believe it from jealousy free,
A thin passing cloud-not the mist of Ennui.
Of tender complainings, tho' love be the theme,
O' beware, my sweet friends, 'tis a dangerous scheme, And tho' often 'tis tried, mark pauvre Mari,
These by kindness inclos'd in the coop of Ennui.
Let confidence, rising such terrors above,
But to your happy husbands, in matters more nice,
Though love for your lips fills with nectar his bowl,
Impatient of law, passion oft will reply,
When husband and wife are honey too fond,
Of indolence most, ye mild couples, beware,
But the lark in the morn 'scapes the vulture Ennui.
Let cheerful good humour, that sunshine of life,
To the graces together both fail not to bend,
WRITTEN IN A YOUNG LADY'S PRAYER BOOK.
WHILST you, fair virgin! Heaven alone pursue, My thoughts are fix'd on equal heaven in you; But why such beauty and, such rigour join'd? Ne'er for a cloister was that face design'd;
To bless, not curse, some happy man 'twas givenThen smile, and answer the decrees of heaven.
STILL, Red-breast, o'er the tuneful dead,
That sweetly-soothing dirge prolong; For his, who owns this earthy bed, His was as sad, as sweet a song!
Unhappy Bard! the scene is past;
At length thy mortal struggle's o'er : But, oh! with that untimely blast, Thy raptur'd strains are heard no more.
Beside the turf that wraps thy clay,
Shall kindred mem'ry fondly wake, And, spite of all thy foes can say,
Shall love thee for the Muse's sake..
O! take from one, who knows to scan
Who feels for erring, wretched man,
O! take this tributary tear,
Here, where no more rude cares molest, But earth's sad sufferers calmly sleep;
Here, where the weary are at rest,
And Pity, with a beaming eye,
Still, Red-breast, o'er the tuneful dead,
That sweetly-soothing dirge prolong;
TO THE MUSE.
MUSE of the mournful song, whose pensive smile
What if, encircled by the flaunting wreath,
By fickle Pleasure's rosy fingers wove, Jocund I hail'd the morning's scented breath, Or with gay footsteps trod the mazy grove?
What if, unheedful of thy precepts mild,
The winged hours in joy's light revels flew, I gaz'd on bright-ey'd Fancy as she smil❜d,
And bless'd the scenes Hope's fairy pencil drew?