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Could he even fix bounds to the orbit of sight,
She would gladden no eyes but his own!

He oft wounds her with doubts, yet will kneel and adore

Opes her letter-it glows with her sigh!

And what pleases him most are some words blotted o'er By a tear-drop that fell from her eye.

Youth and beauty, 'tis said, the fierce tygers respect, But a lover less clemency knows;

E'en the freshness of youth he deems passion's neglect, And to coldness ascribes beauty's rose !

Yes! he likes the wan cheek where soft sorrow's exprest―

'Tis the paleness of love's anxious fear;

Views the faint languid eye-it bespeaks want of restAnd exalts at the heart-distill'd tear!

E'en her thoughts he'd restrain with despotic control; Not content with her beauties alone;

He would fetter each nerve, nay, imprison her soul, To enrapture, enfranchise his own!

To the altar he leads her--the torch Hymen lights; There the lover his bondage applies;

There his victim is bound, while he joins in the rites, Mid the perfume, the incense of sighs!

CANDOUR;

OR, LOVE L'ALLEGRO.

What, love excepted, charms mankind? An honest, generous, candid mind.

The love I value scorns control,

Its flame, the impulse of the soul!

If this my Julia cannot show,
It is but just to tell me so.

As fancy dictates, thoughts will range,
Our feelings, inclinations change:
The heavenly mandate how withstand?

Wherefore oppose

its high command?

Why stamp with blame the heart that's free,
Seeking its own affinity?

Think not that hence I Julia slight,
Or hold dear woman's preference light.
Ah no!-but if by ills aggrieved,
'Tis added pain to be deceived;

And when by love and fortune crost,
'Tis nearest bliss to know the worst.

Did Julia say she could not love,
"Twould still a mark of kindness prove.
For CANDOUR, which the heart alarms,
Adds greater worth to female charms;
It notes a rectitude replete,

A detestation of deceit.

vol. ii.

If man enslave the female mind,
It only leans as he's inclined;

The difference, then, not wide would seem
"Twixt me and those who vainly dream :
And thus the case-a few words show it—
The MIND'S THE SAME—but I best know it.

CHAPTER VIII.

In the previous pages of these memoirs, I endeavoured to give a brief account of the most probable origin of my scribbling propensities. Before I was eighteen. years of age, I began to send verses and other articles to various periodical publications; and these procured me at times the knowing of many ingenious people, and most valuable friends. I shall only occasionally mention a few out of the great number I have met with. All persons of fifty and upwards, who were then in the habit of reading the annual diaries, may possibly remember, amongst the contributors to those pages, the assumed names of Tasso and Doctor Conundrum. About twenty years after that period, I was at Torrington in Devonshire, when a gentleman was pointed out to me as a frequent correspondent to publications of the kind alluded to. I met him one day by accident, having previously been introduced to him by our mutual friend Doctor Waldon; and after moving

my hat, spoke to him to this effect:-"Sir, I believe I have the pleasure of addressing myself to a contributor to the Ladies' Diary; 1 cannot say I remember seeing your name there!" "Oh ! sir, (he replied) perhaps you may recollect the name of Tasso!" 66 Very well indeed sir!" and I immediately repeated to him some verses of his writing, which I had formerly admired, and still remembered. We became friends, and remained so till his death. His name was Colby; a sensible man, and an excellent Surgeon he left behind him a son, who I believe still resides at Torrington, acquainted with and allied to some of the first families in the town and neighbourhood.

I will now speak further of another Diarian already mentioned, Doctor Conundrum. I had been two or three seasons in Taunton before I discovered this personage in the master of a grammar school, of first-rate importance, Mr. Henry Norris. He was a man of retired habits, and of unassuming worth :-he knew, and taught many languages,-yet never seemed to make any display of his great talents. Perhaps, many Diarians still alive, may recollect with pleasure the poetical courtship carried on between him and Miss Peggy Lugg, of Penryn in Cornwall. It delighted the readers of the Ladies' Diaries for several years, and many of them thought it matter of fact, and I was one of the number so agrecably deceived. Alas! the doctor was already married, and father of a fine family! At last, the doctor thought proper to put an end to their annual courtship, by coming to the point, and writing to the following effect. 'Tis more than

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