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But I don't think the little witches, By nature meant to wear the breeches, And spread the empire of their charms, Like Mahomet, by force of arms; Nor will I with my system graft The whims of Mary Wollstonecraft ; And have of course no plan in view To form a naval rendezvous Of petticoated sailors, jolly, At Spithead, under Admiral Polly.-And I confess I have my fears They would not march like grenadiers, With bayonet, and courage stout, To storm a fortified redoubt.. Nor do I think that pretty maids Would stand, in regular blockades, But would surrender, to a man, Although intrench'd by fam'd Vauban !

So much for them; and now to you I will address a word or two :Do not commence in love's career With whimpering plaints about your dear ; Nor tell the world your case deplorable, That you're despis’d by your adorable ; Nor sit on moss-grown bank and snivel, Because Miss Sylvia is uncivil ; Nor sing to every brawling brook, She petrifi'd you with a look ; Nor make your fair, in prose or metre, A monstrous pretty sort of creature ; Nor sack the store-house of Dame Nature For similes wherewith to mate her; Nor conjure up, with deal of pains, From vasty deep of poet's brains, A heathenish sort of wizard battery, To take her heart by dint of flattery.That Venus, Dian, and the rest, Compar'd with her are second best. Thus have I known a would-be poet, Who was, alas ! a man of no wit, Whose lays with tawdry nonsense shone, As much like your's as are your own. He form’d a chaos every line Of all his folly could combine ;

Oft haul'd in gods, by head and shoulders,
To discipline militia soldiers,
And made the stout old bully Mars,
The captain Church* of Indian wars ;
The pretty musical Miss Clio
Her jewsharp tune on broad Ohio ;
And little Cupid, all the tippy,
Along the banks of Mississippi,
In spite of all poetick laws
His arrows shoot at tawny squaws!
All this may do, in humorous pieces,
Where things absurd our mirth increases ;
Would you describe a drunken rout,
And for expressions are put to't,
Then introduce old Mr. Bacchus,
And make his godship chyme with crackers ;
But would you win the fair you love,
Such foolish trifling be above;
For if she's sense a single grain,
Your florid nonsense will be vain ;

• A chieftain famous in the wars between the New England colonists and the American Aborigines.

Your true sublime, and lorn pathetick, She will abhor, like an emetick.

But if so fortunate your case is, That love is built on friendship's basis, Not a mere wild and wanton fire, But pure esteem, and chaste desire ; What time a thousand tender arts Denote a unison of hearts, When half express’d, half stifled sigh, And timid glancc from downcast eye Appear expressively unique, With crimson flush of beauty's cheek; And all in tender tone proclaim That hopes and wishes are the same; Unite assenting hearts and hands, In gentle Hymeneal bands ; Then may you fondly hope to prove The tranquil sweets of wedded love, While rapture crowns each passing day, Till life and love at once decay !





THAT unaccommodating churl, Who keeps things ever on the whirl, Old daddy Time, for aye careering, Has piloted another year in ; And in the course of last year's flight, he Has brought about affairs so mighty, Such a most wonderful, immense Concatenation of events, That your most humble servant flatters Himself a hint of some vast matters This personage has set afloat, is Well worth your honour's worship’s notice.

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I don't say I am very knowing In all the great affairs now going;


. * Written for January 1st, 1806.

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