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The next line with great effect-a fignificant paufe at the end of each femicolon.

They kifs'd; the figh'd; he hung his head;
Her lefs'ning boat unwilling rows to land;
"Adieu!" fhe cries, and wav'd her lily hand.

To give full force and beauty in reading the following defcription of conjugal happinefs, it is not only neceffary that your utterance fhould be eafy and flowing, but that your looks should keep in unison with the fentiments of content you are to deliver. Without this concord of look and voice, in whatever you read, the effect of what you exprefs will be confiderably leffened, if not nearly destroyed.

SONG.

By Mr. MOORE.

How bleft has my time been, what joys have I

known,

Since wedlock's foft bondage made Jeffe my own!
So joyful my heart is, fo eafy my chain,

That freedom is taftelefs, and roving a pain.

Through

Through walks, grown with woodbines, as often we

stray,

Around us our boys and girls frolic and play;
How pleafing their sport is the wanton ones fee,
And borrow their looks from my Jeffe and me.

To try her fweet temper, fometimes am I feen
In revels all day with the nymphs on the green;
Tho' painful my abfence, my doubts fhe beguiles,
And meets me at night with compliance and fimiles.

What tho' on her cheeks the rofe lofes its hue,
Her wit and good-humour bloom all the year thro';
Time ftill as the flies, adds increase to her truth,
And gives to her mind what he steals from her youth.

Ye fhepherds fo gay, who make love to enfnare,
And cheat with falfe vows the too-credulous fair;
In fearch of true pleasure how vainly you roam!
To hold it for life, you must find it at home.

The fort, tripping meafure in the following Song, the reader will doubtlefs fee the neceffity of reading in a light, eafy manner, to conform to the proper effect intended by the Poet.

SONG.

SONG.

By AKENSIDE.

THE fhape alone let others prize,

The features of the fair!

I look for fpirit in her eyes,
And meaning in her air.

A damask cheek, and iv'ry arm,
Shall ne'er my wishes win:
Give me an animated form,
That speaks a mind within.

A face where awful honour shines,
Where fenfe and sweetness move,
And angel innocence refines

The tenderness of love.

These are the foul of beauty's frame,

Without whofe vital aid

Unfinish'd all her features feem,

And all her rofes dead.

But ah! where both their charms unite,

How perfect is the view,

With ev'ry image of delight,

With graces ever new!

Of

Of pow'r to charm the greatest woe,
The wildest rage controul;
Diffufing mildness o'er the brow,

And rapture thro' the foul.

Their pow'r but faintly to exprefs

All language must despair;

Read the two concluding lines with more deliberation, and in a lower key.

But go, behold Arpafia's face,
And read it perfect there.

Prior's productions of this kind have been long admired. We think the following one of his beft.There ought to be a great deal of gaiety in your look and manner in reading it. Ufe a familiar tone of voice, as if abfolutely converfing with a lady.

DEAR Chloe, how blubber'd is that pretty face!
Thy cheek all on fire, and thy hair all uncurl'd:
Prithee quit this caprice; and (as old Falstaff says)

Let us e'en talk a little like folks of this world.

How

How canft thou prefume, thou haft leave to destroy
The beauties, which Venus but lent to thy keeping?
Those looks were defign'd to inspire love and joy:
More ordinary eyes may serve people for weeping.

To be vex'd at a trifle or two that I writ,

Your judgment at once, and my paffion you

wrong:

You take that for fact, which will fcarce be found

wit.

you

Do

fong?

think one muft fwear to the truth of a

The whole in an eafy colloquial manner, as recommended before.

What I fpeak, my fair Chloe, and what I write,
shows

The difference there is betwixt nature and art:
I court others in verfe; but I love thee in profe:
And they have my whimfics, but thou haft my
heart.

The last five words more affectionately expreffed than the others.

The god of us verfe-men (you know, child) the
fun,

How after his journeys he fets up his reft:
If at morning o'er earth 'tis his fancy to run:
At night he reclines on his Thetis' breast.

So

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