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(V. Cit. of the World, L. 116.) Even in the sultry wilds of Southern America, the lover is not satisfied with possessing bis mistress's person, without having her mind.

In all my Enna's beauties blest,

Amidst profusion still I pine;
For though she gives me up her breast,

Its panting tenant is not mine.

You should have given me your opinion of the design of the heroi-comical poem which I sent you; you remember I intended to introduce the hero of the poem as lying in a paltry ale-house. You may take the following specimen of the manner, which I flatter myself is quite original. The room in which he lies may be described somewhat in this way:

The window, patch'd with paper, lent a ray,
That feebly show'd the state in which he lay.
The sanded floor that grits beneath the tread,
The humid wall with paltry pictures spread;
The game of goose was there exposed to view,
And the twelve rules the royal martyr drew;
The seasons, fram’d with listing, found a place,
And Prussia's monarch show'd his lampblack face.
The morn was cold; he views with keen desire
A rusty grate, unconscious of a fire:
An unpaid reckoning on the frieze was scor'd,
And five crack'd teacups dress'd the chimney board.

And now imagine, after his soliloquy, the landlord to make his appearance, in order to dun him for the reckoning:

Not with that face, so servile and so gay,
That welcomes every stranger that can pay ;
With sulky eye he smok'd the patient man,
Then pulld his breeches tight, and thus began : 1

1 Letter to the Rev. Henry Goldsmith.

Addison, in some beautiful Latin lines inserted in the Spectator, is entirely of opinion that birds observe a strict chastity of manners, and never admit the caresses of a different tribe. - (v. vol. vi. No. 412.)

CHASTE are their instincts, faithful is their fire,
No foreign beauty tempts to false desire;
The snow-white vesture, and the glittering crown,
The simple plumage, or the glossy down,
Prompt not their loves — the patriot bird pursues
His well-acquainted tints, and kindred hues.
Hence through their tribes no mix'd polluted flame,
No monster breed to mark the groves with shame;
But the chaste blackbird, to its partner true,
Thinks black alone is beauty's favourite hue.
The nightingale, with mutual passion blest,
Sings to its mate, and nightly charms the rest.
While the dark owl to court its partner flies,
And owns its offspring in their yellow eyes.1

i See Goldsmith's An. Nat. vol. v. p. 212.

LINES ATTRIBUTED TO DR. GOLDSMITH,

INSERTED IN THE MORNING CHRONICLE

OF APRIL 3, 1800.

E'ER have you seen, bath'd in the morning dew,

The budding rose its infant bloom display:. When first its virgin tints unfold to view,

It shirinks, and scarcely trusts the blaze of day.

So soft, so delicate, so sweet she came,
Youth's damask glow just dawning on her

cheek; I gaz’d, I sigh’d, I caught the tender flame, Felt the fond pang, and droop'd with passion

weak.

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