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CONTENT.

A VISION.

BY DR. COTTOX.

Man is deceiv'd by outward show ..
'Tis a plain homespun truth, I know.
The fraud prevails at ev'ry age-
So says the school-boy, and the sage!
Yet still we hug the dear deceit,
And still exclaim against the cheat.
But whence this inconsistent part,
Say, moralists, who know the heart?
If you'll this labyrinth pursue,
I'll go before and find the clue.

I dreamt ('twas on a birth-day night)
A sumptuous palace rose to sight:
The builder had through ev'ry part
Observ'd the chastest rules of art;
Raphael and Titian had display'd
All the full force of light and shade:
Around the livery'd servants wait;
An aged porter kept the gate.

As I was traversing the hall,
Where Brussels looms adorn'd the wall;
“The regions of the sky I'd trace,
I'd ransack every earthly place,

Each leaf, each herb, each flower,
To mitigate the pangs of Fear,
Dispel the clouds of black Despair,

Or Jull the restless hour.

V

“I would be generous as I'm just,
But I obey, as others must,

Those laws which Fate has made:
My tiny kingdom how defend,
And what might be the horrid end,

Should man my state invade?

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'Twould put your mind into a rage,
And such unequal war to wage

Suits not my regal duty!
I dare not change a first decree,
She's doom’d to please, nor can be free-

Such is the lot of beauty!"

This said, he darted o'er the plain,
And after follow'd all his train;

No glimpse of him I find:
But sure I am, the little sprite
These words, before he took his flight,

Imprinted on my mind.

CONTENT

A VISION.

BY DR. COTTON.

Man is deceiv'd by outward show,
'Tis a plain bomespun truth, I know.
The fraud prevails at ev'ry age-
So says the school-boy, and the sage!
Yet still we hug the dear deceit,
And still exclaim against the cheat.
But whence this inconsistent part,
Say, moralists, who know the heart?
If you'll this labyrinth pursue,
I'll go before and find the clue.

I dreamt ('twas on a birth-day night)
A sumptuous palace rose to sight:
She builder had through ev'ry part
Observ'd the chastest rules of art;
Raphael and Titian had display'd
All the full force of light and shade:
Around the livery'd servants wait;
An aged porter kept the gate.

As I was traversing the hall,
Where Brussels looms adorn'd the wall;
(Whose tap'stry shows, without any aid,
A nun is no such useless maid),
A graceful person came in view,
(His forın, it seems, is known to few);
His dress was unadorn'd with lace,
But charms! a thousand in his face.

“This, Sir, your property?" I cry'd“ Master and mansion coincide; Where all, indeed, is truly great, And proves, that bliss may dwell with state: Pray, Sir, indulge a stranger's claim, And grant the favour of your name.”

• CONTENT,” the lovely form reply'd; « But think not here that I reside: Here lives a courtier, base and sly; An open, honest, rustic I, Our taste and manners disagree; His levee boasts no charms for me; For titles, and the smiles of kings, To me are cheap unheeded things. ('Tis virtue can alone impart The patent of a ducal heart: Unless this herald speaks him great, Wbat shall avail the glare of state?) Those secret charnis are my delight, Which shine remote from public sight: Passions subdued, desires at rest,And hence his chaplain shares my breast."

** There was a time (his Grace can tell)
I knew the Duke exceeding well;
Knew every secret of his heart;
In truth, we never were apart:
But when the Court became his end,
He turn'd his back upon his friend.'

One day I call'd upon his Grace,
Just as the Duke had got a place :
I thought (but thought amiss, 'tis clear)
I should be welcome to the peer:
Yes; welcome to a man in pow'r !
And so I was---for half an hour.

“But he grew weary of his guest,
And soon discarded me bis breast;
Upbraided me with want of merit,
But most for poverty of spirit.

“ You relish not the great man's lot? Come, hasten to my humbler cot. Think me not partial to the great, I'm a sworn foe to pride and state! No monarchs share my kind embrace, There's scarce a monarch kuows my face: Content shuns courts, and oft'ner dwells With modest Worth in rural cells; There's no complaint, though brown the bread, Or the rude turf sustain the head; Though hard the couch, and coarse the meat, Still the brown loaf and sleep are sweet.

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