ON ANOTHER ANNIVERSARY OF THE SAME DAY.
WITH HIS OWN PROFILE IN SHADOW.
N many an emblem's better part,
I've pictur'd oft, your head and heart;
Permit me now to let
A Shadow, that should look like me;
The Shadow of a Man obfcure,
In all, but one dear treasure, poor;
Yet more than wealthy, happy too,
To call that one dear treafure-You!
The Shadow of a Man, whofe eye
Could Worth in Beauty's form defcry:
Mark'd where the worthieft charm the most ;
And faw in You, all each could boast ;
And seeing, lov'd; and loving, thought,
The more he lov'd, the more he ought.
The Shadow of a Man, who knows
How likeness from affection grows;
And his own Virtue best secures,
When most he feels, and honours Yours.
In fhort, mere Shadow, as it is,
Queer copy of as queer a Phiz,
This mimic bawble of a face,
Affumes a ftyle, and claims a place,
All other Pride and Praise above
-THE SHADOW OF THE MAN YOU LOVE!
ON ANOTHER ANNIVERSARY OF THE SAME DAY.
WITH A SILVER TEA-POT, AND OTHER plate.
AFFECTION, which in humbler Toys,
Has oft expreffed it's annual joys,
Boasts no increase, affumes no state,
In these more gaudy gifts of Plate :
Small odds their previous price procures,
Their Worth commences, when they're Yours:
And Love fo just as mine before,
Was never less-nor can be more.
I knew you amiably great,
When hallow'd Union join'd our fate;
Whatever part esteem inspir'd,
Or duty taught, or need requir'd,
Took from your Spirit double force;
'Twas good-and it was yours, of course;
Or, vice versa understood,
Was yours-and therefore it was good.
Imagin'd powers, if fiction drew,
Your real powers made fiction true :
If praise indulged a loftier tone,
'Twas praise of manners-like your own.
Years following years disclos'd to fight,
The fame dear merit in new light;
Merit, that every light could bear,
More varied, but to seem more fair.
Th' Addrefs, that made my fondeft hope,
The centre of it's earlier fcope,
With equal latitude still shares
Th' acute excess of all my cares ;-
Now, drooping nature to fuftain,
Smiles Comfort on the bed of pain :
Now, fhows me on how fure a base,
Temper and Sense build Taste and Grace ;-
Now, adds a plume to Fancy's flight :-
Now, points my views to nobler Height.
Meanwhile, thus cheer'd, affifted, bleft,
I ('tis the moft I can) atteft
My grateful heart's applaufive truth,
With paltry Plate, and Rhymes-forfooth!
Yet take 'em, Girl, as meant to prové
Tokens, not meafures, of my Love:
If value, more than that, they plead,
They're miferably fhort indeed!
No Verse can make my feelings known,
While Verfe confifts of words alone :-
No Silver give you half your due,
Till Silver is as pure as You!
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