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ON LOVE.

LL hail! thou tyrant Love, whose power
controuls

The fecret will and paffions of our fouls.
Love is a fecret motion of the mind,
To certain objects, where it hopes to find
Both rest and fatisfaction. Every breast
By love predominant is still poffest,
That o'er our other paffions hath a fway
And the beloved object we obey.
This Love, we perfect or imperfect find
As is the object which attracts our mind.
The heart, that's fix'd on objects vile and base,
Brings on itself dishonour and disgrace.
And he, whose heart is fix'd on things fublim'd
Thus may acquire an elevated mind.

Love raifes in our minds an useful thought
Of that beloved object, which hath caught
Qur very fouls. This object then employs
Our fecret thoughts; our peace it then destroys.
In dreams by night it then disturbs our fleep,
And from our thoughts by day we can't it keep.

A lover's mind is like a stormy fea That's in perpetual motion; and we fee The foul is feiz'd by love, as is the blood By agues; first a shiv'ring, then a flood Of burning heat: fo love will always show Of fear and hope, perpetual ebb and flow.

In Love, the hero's courage we may view, The man's fears, the madman's folly too; And at first fight, we equally may fee 'Tis raging madness, then neceffity. It is now joy, then grief-now hopes, then fears, And all that's ferious, calm, and fierce appears. 'Tis Love inspires the eloquence of men, And Love it is inspires the poet's pen.

Hope is the lover's refuge, and he'll find, That one kind look will eafe his tortur'd mind. His down-caft heart ne'er knew a found fo fweet, His heavy ears ne'er heard fuch concords meet. Not all the founds of martial mufic, join'd In concert with the warbling birds and wind, And murm'ring waters, that through vallies glide With all the pow'rs of vocal charms beside, Could in his foul fuch pleasing raptures move, As when his dear Louisa said, " I love." Soon as a foulis seiz'd by Love, 'twill know, 'Tis sweet, 'tis bitter, rapid 'tis, and flow, Famine or time may well perform a cure, But if not, and the flame you can't endure, Go hang thyself-a remedy that's fure. Great is its influence, boundless is its reign, Nought can its actions check, or will reftrain.

Thou, Nature, never would'st preside
When he with fruitless care,
Has oft to thee his strains apply'd,
For, ah! thou were not there!
But thou wert present whilst inspir'd
With scenes, by Heav'n imprest,
Th' Olympiad all the genius fir'd
Of Pergolesi's* breaît.

My lov'd Olympiad! oft in thee,
How oft, alas! renew'd,
The image of my heart I see;
This heart with woe subdu'd!

The fun when funk beneath the hill,
Leaves me with thee to weep,
With thee he finds me weeping itill,
When he forfakes the deep.
What tribute can be paid by me,

In humble life conceal'd?
Can I an equal praise to thee
(Great Nature's painter!) yield?
Thou shedst the nectar of delight
That all my foul inspires,

Thy muse, when the extends her flight,
Adds wing to my defires.

Can I to celebrate thy name
This hand untutor'd trust;
And like another Pigal + frame
For thee the breathing butt?

Here, on the left, by Arbia's fide,

Arbia that gently leads
With murm'ring found his flender tide
Along the Roman meads,

A graffy hillock rises fair,
Begirt with filent bowers,
A dwelling oft to shield from care
The poet's pensive hours.

Thus Horace in the Sabine grove
Attun'd his amorous lyre,
And fung, for Lalage, his love,
The queen of his defire.

The juniper and laurel here,
By Phœbus ever fam'd,
A verdant altar grace, which near
My pious hand has fram'd.
For every wondrous work of thine,
With endless glory crown'd,
A chofen garland see me twine
And hang the trophies round.

Where fair engrav'd the happy few
The pleas'd attention claim,

Regulus, Artaxerxes view,
Titus and Dido's name.

But where th' Olympiad holds a place
Upon the cedar's rind,
There thrice I Metaitafio trace,
And there three garlands bind.

And thrice each day my votive lays
Th' ingenuous notes prolong,
A rustic priest that dares to raife

To thee the ruftic fong!

* An Italian composer.

+ A French sculptor.

}

The

The winged infects, and the reptile tribe,
The finny race that in the waters glide,
The fhaggy beafts, and rangers of the air,
Can well its influence tell and pow'r declare.
The air, the fea, the earth, and flow'ry plain,
Extend its uncontrol'd and boundless reign,
In a defenceless and unarmed state

It braves the world, and rules both small and great.
The wife, the prudent, and the virtuous breaft,
Th' imprudent and unwife it hath poffeft.
With all our arts we cannot shun the stroke,
We must submit unto its heavy yoke.
The nauseous draught of life we can't drink down
Unless this drop, this cordial drop is thrown
Into our cup and then we know
It fmooths the edge of all our fmarting woe.
Maidstone, March 9, 1785.

Stella foar on (to nobler objects true)
Pour out your foul with your lov'd Montague.
But, ah! iltould either have a thought to fpare,
Slight, trivial, neither worth a fmile nor tear,
Let it be mine when glowing raptures rife,
And each afpiring seeks her native skies,
When fancy wakes the foul to extacy,
And the wrapt mind is fir'd with Deity,
Quick let me from the hallow'd spot retire,
When facred genius lights his awful fire:
Yet shall your bounty warm my feeble state,
With chearful, luftre gild my gloomy fate;
In that lone hour, when angry storms defcend,
And the chill'd foul forgets the name of friend,
When all her sprightly fires neglected lie,
And gloomy objects fill the mental eye;
When hoary Winter itrides the northern blast,
And Flora's beauties at his feet are cast;
Earth by the grifly tyrant defert made,

An ADDRESS to Miss WINNE, of The feather'd warblers quit the feather'd shade,

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Plymouth.

I

N the gay room, where in affembiage bright The focial Graces and the Loves unite, Such as once fill'd Jove's court, as poets sung, With founds of joy when high Olympus rung, Where Juno with a mien majestic charm'd, And fmiling Venus every bosom warm'd; While Cupid sported, Phœbus tun'd the lyre, And all the Muses join'd the fprightly choir; See where Winne comes, fair as the Cyprian

queen

On Ida's lofty hill, by Paris seen,
When on her form the shepherd fix'd his eyes,
And the all-conquering gain'd the golden prize.
Three goddesses did then in war engage,
Dire in the war of beauty was their rage;
More generous females grace our modern days,
They only here contend who most shall praife.
The fairest in the throng, where all are fair,
Freely thy worth, resplendent nymph, declare
Thy elegance of form, and charm of face,
Thy manners dignified, and artless grace,
When in the courtly minuet you advance,
Or form the movements of the swifter dance,
Light as young fancy, or the fun's gay im
That gilds the mountain's top, or dances on the
stream.

Thro' all the maze of life, where'er you bend
Your steps, may harmony and joy attend;
And when pale Death shall-start not, gentle

maid,

For Death will come, and that fine form will fade,
Late be the hour--and gentle be the dart-
And may thy guardian genius ne'er depart;
Spreading his filver wings, divinely bright,
May he then bear thee thro' the fields of light;
On golden clouds thou shalt immortal rife,
And reign for ever blooming in the skies.

AN OLD CORRSSFONDENT.

LINES

By Mrs. YEARSLEY, the celebrated Milk-
Woman of CLIFTON.
To STELLA, on a visit to Mrs. MONTAGUE.

UNEQUAL, loft to th' afpiring claim,

I neither own nor afk the immortal name. Of friend-oh, no, its ardours are too great, My foul too narrow, and too low my itate;

Quit those dear scenes where life and love began,
And cheerlefs fseek the savage haunt of man;
Then shall your image foothe my penfive foul,
When flow-pac'd moments big with mischief roll;
Then shall I, eager, wait your wish'd return
From y bright fair who decks a Shakspeare's urn
With deathless glories, ev'ry ardent pray'r
Which gratitude can waft from fouls fincere,
Each glad return to gen'rous beauty due,
Shall warm my heart for thee and Montague.
Bleft pair! O had not fouls like your's been

given,

The dubious Atheist well might doubt a heaven:
Convinc'd, he now deferts his gloomy stand,
Owns mind the greateft proof of a creating hand.
Galen's converfion, by externals wrought,
Dropp'd far beneath fublimity of thought;
But could he those exalted virtues find,
Which form and actuate your gentle mind,
How would the Heathen, struck with blest surprise,
Atoms deny, while spirit fill'd his eyes!

THE MISLETOE AND THE PASSION

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FLOWER.

A FABLE. By Mr. LANGHORN. N this dim cave a druid fleeps,

Where itops the paffing gale to moan; The rock he hallow'd o'er him weeps, And cold drops wear the fretted stone.

In this dim cave, of different creed,
An hermit's holy ashes reft:
The school-boy finds the frequent bead,
Which many a formal matin blest.
That truant-time full well I know,
When here I brought, in stolen hour,
The druid's magic mifletoe,

The holy hermit's paffion-flower.
The offerings on the mystic stone
Pensive I laid, in thought profound,
When from the cave a deepening groan
Issued, and froze me to the ground.

I hear it still-Dost thou not hear?

Does not thy haunted fancy start? The found fill vibrates thro' mine earThe horror rushes on my heart,

Unlike to living founds it came,

Unmix'd, unmelodiz'd with breath;
But, grinding thro' some scrannel frame,
Creak'd from the bony lungs of death.

I hear it still-" Depart," it cries;
"No tribute bear to shades unbleft:
Know, here a bloody druid lies,
Who was not nurs'd at Nature's breast.
Affociate he with dæmons dire,

O'er human victims held the knife,
And pleas'd to fee the babe expire,
Smil'd grimly o'er its quivering life.
Behold his crimson-streaming hand
Erect!-his dark, fix'd, murderous eye!"
In the dim cave I faw him stand;
And my heart died-I felt it die.
I fee him still-Dost thou not fee
The haggard eye-ball's hollow glare?
And gleams of wild ferocity

Dart thro the fable shade of hair? What meagre form behind him moves, With eye that rues th' invading day; And wrinkled afpect wan, that proves The mind to pale remorse a prey?

What wretched-Hark!-the voice replies, "Boy, bear these idle honours hence! For here a guilty hermit lies,

Untrue to nature, virtue, sense.

Tho' Nature lent him powers to aid

The moral cause, the mutual weal:
Those powers he funk in this dim shade,
The defperate suicide of zeal.

Go, teach the drone of faintly haunts,
Whose cell's the fepulchre of time;
Tho' many a hely hymn he chaunts,
His life is one continued crime.

And bear from hence the plant, the flower;
No symbols those of systems vain!
They have the duties of their hour-
Some bird, fome insect to sustain."

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THERE dost thou, Memory, thy feat

W

maintain?

In what recesses of the brain?
What corner of the mind?
Amazing faculty! In vain we try,
In vain our mental pow'rs apply,
Thy wond'rous fource to find.

By thee we call past scenes again to view,
By thee they're acted o'er anew
Within th' attentive mind:
There, in progreffive order rang'd, we fee
The traces strong, which Memory
Of facts has left behind.

Without the aid which we receive rrom thee
How short-liv'd would the pleafures be
Which most our fancy fire!

Like bubbles floating on the filver stream,
As tranfient as a midnight dream,
As fuddenly expire.

Thy faithful records long impress'd retain
The fenfe of pleasure, and of pain,
LOND. MAG. April 1785.

When pain or pleasure's o'er: To thee how many comforts do we owe! Without thee love and friendship too Would give delight no more!

When ev'ry present object fails to please,
We recollect the hours of ease,
When pleasure did abound:
Thus we can trace the beauties of the spring,
And to our minds its fragrance bring,
When winter reigns around.

By thee alone all knowledge we attain;
Without thee our pretence is vain
To learning's facred lore:
Thy aid invigorates the poet's lay,
Without thy strong retentive ray
Vain his attempts to foar.

In vain fair science spreads her ample store,
Turning instructive volumes o'er,
With modern learning fraught:
Though all antiquity holds forth to view
Be represented to us too,
It will avail us nought.

E'en Tully's eloquence in vain would charm,
Or Plato's heavenly wisdom warm,

If traces none remain

Of what we read, or what attentive hear:
The mind a defert must appear
Where Mem'ry does not reign.

O, Pow'r Supreme! from whom alone mankind
Derive this faculty of mind,

Vouchsafe to hear my prayer:
All bad impreffions from my breast remove,
Nor aught but what thou dost approve
Be ever treafur'd there.

Teddington, Feb. 17, 1785.

L

CLASSICUS.

VERSES

Written the 30th of March, 1784.
O! Winter still obscures the chearful day,
And with his ruffian blasts affrights the
fpring!

No fprightly notes are warbled from the spray;
Scarce e'en the red-breast now attempts to fing!

Untimely snows again deform the fields,
Nature again a wintry garment wears,
To cold and itorm the lovely season yields,
Nor one bold plant its tender stalk uprears!
With anxious look we caft our eyes around,

No leaves, no flow'rs, no blossoms we descry:
No springing grafs now carpets o'er the ground,
But dead the vegetable kingdoms lie!
Yet still beyond these gloomy prospects we,
Led on by hope, that foother of the mind,
Reviving Nature soon expect to fee,

And all her vernal charms once more to find.
So when the clouds of black misfortune rife,
And unforefeen distress the breast assails,
Should we look forward to ferener skies,
And cherith hope of more propitious gales.
CLASSICUS.

Teddington, March 12, 1785.
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WINTER.

WINTER. AN ODE.

By the late Dr. SAMUEL JOHNSON.
O more the morn, with tepid rays,
Unfolds the flow'r of various hue;
Noon spreads no more the genial blaze,
Nor gentle eve diftills the dew.
The ling'ring hours prolong the night,
Ufurping darkness shares the day;
Her mists restrain the force of light,
And Phœbus holds a doubtful sway.
By gloomy twilight half reveal'd

With fighs we view the hoary hill,
The leafless wood, the naked field,
The snow-topp'd cot, the frozen rill.
No music warbles through the grove,
No vivid colours paint the plain;
No more with devious steps I rove
Through verdant paths now fought in vain.
Aloud the driving tempest roars;

Congeal'd, impetuous showers descend;
Hafte!-close the window-bar the doors;
Fate leaves me Stella and a friend.

In Nature's aid, let art supply
With light and heat my little sphere :
Rouse, rouse the fire, pile it high;
Light up a conftellation here.
Let music sound the voice of joy,
Or mirth repeat the jocund tale;
Let Love his wanton wiles employ,

And o'er the season wine prevail.
Yet Time his dreary winter brings,
... When mirth's gay tale shall please no more;
Nor music charm, though Stella fings;

Nor love, nor wine, the spring restore.
Catch then, O catch, the tranfient hour:
Improve each moment as it flies:
Life's a short fummer-man a flower!
He dies! - Alas! how foon he dies!

ΕΡΙΤΑΡΗ on Dr. JOHNSON.

YE

E vain, licentious wits! your distance keep,
And, if you never wept, now learn to weep.

Learning hath lost her prop in Johnson's end,
Virtue her boaft, and Piety her friend.
Presume not to this shrine too near to draw,
Or, if you dare approach, approach with awe.
The scythe of time shall canker o'er with ruft,
Lose its keen edge, and splinter into dust;
Himself, too, ficken, and in anguish pine,
Ere he shall gain a harvest fo divine.

But tho' thy form be snatch'd from mortal eye,
Johnson! thy spotless fame shall never die.
Clos'd as thou art in Death's eternal cave,
Thy work shall live, and bloffom from the grave.
W. WOTY.

Loughborough, Leicestershire,
Dec. 20, 1784.

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Improv'd, O great philologer, by thee
The English language to pofterity
Shall attic phrafe and well turn'd periods show,
With all the graces that from taste can flow.
Thy nervous style, so beautifully strong,
Shall be the standard of thy native tongue.
But though thy learning justly rais'd thy name,
And shall hereafter still increase thy fame,
Yet did thy life thy lit'rature excell,
And added force to what was taught so well.
Thy writings recommend religion's caufe,
And thy whole life was govern'd by her laws.
CLASSICUS.

Teddington, Jan. 13, 1785.

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TH

well.

Пеер;

This life is no more than a journey 'tis faid,
Where y roads for most part are confoundedly bad;
So let wine be ourspurs, and all trav'lers will own,
That whatever the roads, we jog merrily on.
This world to a theatre liken'd has been,
Where each man around has a part in the scene;
'Tis our part to be drunk, and 'tis matter of fact,
That y more you all drink, boys, ý better you act.
This life is a dream, in which many will weep,
Who have strange filly fancies, and cry in their
[be faid,
But of us, when we wake from our dream, 'twill
That the tears of y tankard were all that we shed.
EPITAPH on a favourite HORSE.
HOUGH long untrodden on poetic ground,
On me no Pegasean dust is found;
Your kind assistance, gentle Muses, lend,
To pay this tribute to a parted friend:
Let no rough trotting lines my theme disgrace,
But smoothly canter in harmonious pace.
Sorrell deceas'd demands my grateful lay,
The willing Sorrell to his latest day.
Upright he jogg'd thro' life's mysterious round,
In temper gentle, constitution found.
Stranger to vice, no guilty start he knew,
Excell'd by none, and equall'd but by few.
Whether the full portmanteau to fustain,
Or proudly gallop o'er th' extended plain;
To fmoke the foremost in the eager chace,
Or shine unrival'd in the unequal race;
Sorrell in each two grateful lords obey'd,
Who lov'd him living, and lament him dead.
MILES.

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L

MATHEMATICS.

ANSWERS TO MATHEMATICAL QUESTIONS.

80. QUESTION (I. Dec.) not answered.

81. QUESTION (II. Dec.) answered by the proposer.

ET S represent the fun, E the earth, and M the planet in its orbit AMMB. Draw SM and EM, and produce the latter to e; then I say that the part of the enlightened disk of an inferior planet which can be seen from the earth will always be as the versed fine of the angle SMe, that is, as the versed sine of the supplement of the angle contained between lines drawn from the planet to the earth and fun. For ac being drawn perpendicular to SM, bd to EM, and ar to bd; it is manifeft that abe will be the enlightened disk of the planet, ab that portion of it which is visible to a spectator on the earth at E; and br, which is the versed fine of the arc ba, will be the apparent breadth of it. But br is the versed fine of the arch ba, which is equal to ne, the measure of the exterior angle SMe, of the triangle SME, because aMS, and bMe are both right angles. Now it is demonstrated by the writers on menfuration, that the areas of iuch lunule as form the visible parts of the enlightened disks of the planets are as the rectangles contained by the greatest breadths of them and the diameters of the spheres on which they are formed: but, in this cafe, the diameter

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of the planet being a conftant quantity, the areas will be as their greatest apparent breadth; that is, as the versed fines br of the angle SMe, which, according to

ME+MS+SE×ME+MS-SE

trigonometrical writers is equal to

Putting, there

fore, a SE, b=SM, and x=EM,

2MSXME x+b+axx+b-a 26x

will be as the illuminated

part of the planet seen from the earth. But the intensity of the light of any lumi. nous object is directly as the illuminated furface, and inversely as the square of its

distance from the spectator; confequently,

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as the intensity of the light of mercury, which will be greatest when -2bx4x 8b2x3x+6a2bx2x-6b3a2x, its fluxion, is equal o; that is, when x2+4bx=3a2 -362, and then x = √3a2+b2-26.

Let a be expounded by 1; then, according to Dr. Halley's Tables, b will be ,3871; and x, or EM, 1,00058. Hence, the angle ESM, or the difference between the heliocentric longitude of the planet and that of the earth will be 789 55' 41"; whereas the fame angle, at the time of the planet's greatest elongation from the fun is only 67° 13'; Mercury is therefore brightest between the time of its greatest elongation and that of its fuperior conjunction; and its elongation at that time, or the angle SEM, is 22o 18′47′′.

If, instead of Mercury, we would inquire into the situation of the planet Venus, when its splendour is greatest, the very fame equation will resolve the problem: for retaining a, the mean distance of the earth from the fun, 1, that of Venus, by Halley's Table, will be .72333, for the value of b; from whence we shall have EM (x) in this cafe, .43036, and the angle ESM=22° 20' 57"; whereas that angle, at the time of the planet's greatest elongation is 43° 40% Consequently, Venus is brightest between the time of her greatest elongation, and her inferior conjunction;

Mma

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