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She was, and docile, which her pious nurse
Observ'd, and early in each female fraud
Her 'gan initiate; well she knew to finile,
Whene'er vexation gall’d her; did she weep?
'Twas not sincere, the fountains of her eyes
Play'd artificial fircams, yet so well forc’d
They look'd like nature; for ev’n art to her
Was natural, and contrarieties
Seem'd in Roxena congruous and allied.
Such was she, when brisk Vortigern beheld,
Ill-fated prince and lov'd her. She perceiv’d,
Soon she perceiv'd her conquest; soon she told,
With hafty joy transported, her old fire.
The Saxon inly smild, and to his ille
The willing prince invited, but first bad
The nymph prepare the potions; such as fire 225
The blood's meand'ring rivulets, and depress
To love the soul. Lo! at the noon of night
Thrice Hecate invok'd the maid---and thrice
The goddess stoop'd assent; forth from a cloud
She stoop’d, and gave the philters pow'r to charm. 230
These in a splendid cup.of burnish'd gold
The lovely forceress mix’d, and to the prince
Health, peace, and joy propin'd, but to herself
Mutter'd dire exorcisms, and wish'd cffect
To th’love-creating draught: lowly she bow'd

235 Fawning insinuation bland, that might

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Deceive Laertes' son; her lucid orbs
Shed copiously the oblique rays; her face
Like modest Luna's shone, but not so pale,
And with no borrow'd lustre; on her brow
Smild Fallacy, while summoning each grace,
Kneeling she gave the cup. The prince (for who!
Who cou'd have spurn’d a suppliant so divine ?)
Drank eager, and

and in ecstasy devour'd
Th' ambrosial perturbation; mad with love
He clasp'd her, and in Hymeneal bands
At once the nymph demanded and obtain'd.
Now Hengist, all his ample wish fulfillid,
Exulted; and from Kent th' uxorious prince
Exterminated, and usurp'd his feat.
Long did he reign; but all-devouring time
Has raz’d his palace walls---Perchance on them
Grows the green hop, and o'er his crumbled bust
In spiral twines ascends the scancile pole.---
But now to plant, to dig, to dung, to weed;
Talks how indelicate? demand the muse.

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Come, fair magician, sportive Fancy come,
With thy unbounded imagery; child of thought,
From thy aeriel citadel descend,
And (for thou canst) affist me. Bring with thee
Thy all-creative Talisman; with thee
The active spirits ideal, tow’ring Aights,

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That hover o'er the mufe-resounding groves,
And all thy colourings, all thy shapes display.
Thou to be here, Experience, fo shall I
My rules nor in low profe jejunely say,
Nor in smooth numbers musically err;
But vain is Fancy and Experience vain,
If thou, O Hesiod! Virgil of our land,
Or hear'st thou rather, Milton, bard divine,
Whose greatness who shall imitate, save thee?
If thou O * Philips fav’ring dost not hear
Me, inexpert of verse; with gentle hand
Uprear the unpinion'd muse, high on the top
Of that immeasurable mount, that far
Exceeds thine own Plinlimmon, where thou tun'st
With Phæbus' self thy lyre. Give me to turn
Th' unwieldly subject with thy graceful ease,
Extol its baseness with thy art; but chief
Illumine, and invigorate with thy fire.

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When Phæbus looks thro’ Aries on the spring,
And vernal flow’rs promise the dulcet fruit,
Autumnal pridel delay not then thy setts-
In Tellus' facile bosom to depose
Timely: if thou art wise the bulkiest chufe:
To every root three joints indulge, and form

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* Mr. John Philips, author of Cyder, a poem.

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The Quincunx with well regulated hills.
Soon from the dung-enriched earth, their heads
Thy young plants will uplift their virgin arms,
They'll stretch, and marriageable claim the pole. 290
Nor frustrate thou their wishes, so thou may'st
Expect an hopeful iffue, jolly Mirth,
Sifter of taleful Jocus, tuneful Song,
And fat Good-nature with her honest face.
But yet in the novitiate of their love,

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And tenderness of youth fuffice small shoots
Cut from the widow'd willow, nor provide
Poles insurmountable as yet. 'Tis then
When twice bright Phoebus' vivifying ray,
Twice the cold touch of winter's icy hand,

300 They've felt; 'tis then we fell sublimer props. 'T'is then the sturdy woodman's axe from far Resounds, resounds, and hark! with hollow groans Down tumble the big trees, and rushing roll O’er the crush'd crackling brake, while in his cave 305 Forlorn, dejected, 'midst the weeping dryads Laments Sylvanus for his verdant care. The ash, or willow for thy use select, Or storm-enduring chesnut; but the oak Unfit for this employ, for nobler ends

310 Reserve untouch’d; she when by time matur’d, Capacious, of fome British demi-god, Vernon, or Warren, shall with rapid wing

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Infuriate,

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Infuriate, like Jove's armour-bearing bird,
Fly on thy foes; They, like the parted waves,
Which to the brazen beak murmuring give way
Amaz’d, and roaring from the fight recede.---
In that sweet month, when to the liftning swains
Fair Philomel sings love, and every cot
With garlands blooms bedight, with bandage meet
The tendrils bind, and to the tall pole tie,
Else soon, too soon their meretricious arms
Round each ignoble clod they'll fold, and leave
Averse the lordly prop. Thus, have I heard
Where there's no mutual tye, no strong connection
Of love-conspiring hearts, oft the young bride
Has prostituted to her Naves her charms,
While the infatuated lord admires

Fresh-budding sprouts, and issue not his own.
Now turn the glebe: soon with correcting. hand
When smiling June in jocund dance leads-on
Long days and happy hours, from ev'ry vine.
Dock the redundant branches, and once more
With the sharp spade thy numerous acres till.
The shovel next must lend its aid, enlarge
The little hillocks, and erase the weeds.
This in that month its title which derives

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* Miraturque novas frondes, & non sua poma.

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