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MAY THE 9TH, 1779,

MISS BOYLE'S BIRTH DAY.

OH, fhade of HANB'RY*, from thy feat beftow
One tranfient aspect on this scene below;
This youngest flowret of thy bow'r furvey,
Who meekly rears her head to welcome May,
And looks the lily of the primros'd dale,
Juft breaking thro' its green o'ermantling veil.

Behold the Mother † prompt (with skill refin'd)
To watch the dawning of a Daughter's mind :
With those clear rays which her bright noon adorn,
She streaks and beautifies her pupil's morn:

Foe to th' enamel'd rules of STANHOPE's art,
With Nature's fentiments fhe feeds the heart;
Whose strong ascendant, in due time difplay'd,
Shall as a buckler fhield the tender maid,

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* Sir CHARLES HANBURY WILLIAMS.
†The Honourable Mrs. WALSINGHAM,

When,

When, call'd to enter on her fate's career,
'Thro' life's uncertain voyage she shall steer.
Methinks I now behold that future day,
When the light galley fhall the Fair convey:
I fee this artless CLEOPATRA glide,
Hope at her helm, and Virtue at her fide,
Firm (as her Father to repel the foe)

To meet, when Heav'n ordains, th' affailing woe:
Ah! new adventurer on the sea of life,

May'st thou ne'er meet the waves' infulting ftrife;
Ne'er may thy bark, amidst the whirlwind's roar,
Dash its young bofom on the bulging shore!
May halcyon ftillnefs brood along the deep,
And treach'rous Syrens in fome cavern sleep!
Allur'd by fmiling skies, may playful gales
Toy round thy maft and flutter in the fails!
Enough To merriment the hours devote,
Each accent tune to laughing pleasure's note.

For thee, the darling of these humble lays, Whofe early merit wakes the voice of praise, From the bright date of this recorded day Thou shalt be ftyled the Little Queen of May!

THE

THE

SOLDIER'S FAREWELL,

ON

THE EVE OF A BATTLE.

NIGHT, expecting the dread morrow,

Hover'd o'er the martial train,

Beauteous ALICE, led by forrow,
Hurried to the filent plain :

⚫ Give the watch-word,' the guard utter'd
Loudly from his deftin'd place;
Lo! 'tis I,' fair ALICE mutter'd,
Haftening to his fond embrace.

Ever beauteous, faithful ever,'

Quick the gallant Youth rejoin'd,

Cruel Death can only fever

Hearts in love's ftrong links entwin'd:

• Soon

Soon fhall we be torn afunder,

• Therefore welcome art thou come :

Till morn wakes the battle's thunder

Reft thee on that broken drum.'

She fat down, in mind reviewing
Ills the morning might behold,

Tears still other tears pursuing,

Down her cheek in filence roll'd:

Thoughts to other thoughts fucceeding
O'er her mind inceffant flow ;
She, like Meeknefs, inly bleeding,
Broods in ftillnefs o'er her woe:

• Wherefore, ALICE, doft thou ponder
Evils that are fancy's brood?

Sure our parting might be fonder
Than befeems this filent mood:

• Yet continue ftill to ponder

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Things thy voice wants pow'r to fay,

Thy dumb grief to me feems fonder,

Than words deck'd in bright array.'

She

She replied (her tears still gushing)

• What avails it to be brave?
Thou, amidst the battle rushing,
• Here perchance may'st meet a grave:

• Should't thou perish in the action,
'Where's the peace to footh my care?
· All my life would be distraction,
• Madness, wailing, and despair.

• Still thou wert of gentleft carriage, Still affectionately true,

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And a lover ftill in marriage,
And a friend and parent too.'

Cheer thee, cheer thee, beft of women, • Trust to the great Pow'r above;

When I rush amidst the foemen,

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