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PASTORA.

The reed difports upon the founding thorn,
And Philomel falutes the noon-tide morn,
The buzzing bees, poetic from their hive,
In fmooth alliteration feem alive:

But ah! my virgin fwain is chafter far
Than Cupid's painted shafts, or sparrows are,
Sparrows, that perch, like Sappho's, on my lay,
Or hop in concert with the dancing day.

GALATEA.

What found was that, which dawn'd a bleating hue,
And blush'd a figh? Paftore, was it you?

Your notes sweet maid, this proverb still shall foil,
The pot that's watch'd was never known to boil.

PASTORA.

Ah, no! whate'er thou art, or figh, or word,
Or golden water fam'd, or talking bird;
Source of my joy, or genius of my notes,
Or Ocean's landfcape ftampt with lyric boats,
Ah, no! far hence thy aromatic strains
Recoil, and beautify our vaulted plains,

GALATEA.

Thy dazzling harmony affects me fo,
In azure fymmetry I figh-ah, no!
Ah, no! ah, no! the woods irradiate sing,
Ah, no! ah, no! for joy the grottoes ring;
E'en Heraclitus' vocal tears would flow,
To hear thee murmur thy melodious No!
Thy voice, 'tis true, Paftora, gilds the sky,
But woods and grottoes flutter in my eye,

PASTORA.

When night pellucid warbles into day,
And morn fonorous floats upon the May,
With well-blown bugle through the wilds of air
I roam accordant, while the bounding hare
In covert claps her wings, to fee me pafs
Ethereal meadows of transparent grafs,

GALATEA.

Magnetic thunders now illume the air,
And fragrant mufic variegates the year.
Light trips the dolphin through cerulean woods,
And fpotlefs tygers harmonize the floods;

Ev'n

Ev'n Thetis fmooths her brow, and laughs to fee
Kind nature weep, in fymphony with me.

PASTORA.

This young conundrum let me firft propose,
It puzzles half our dainty belles and beaux.
What makes my lays, in blue-ey'd order fhine
So far fuperior, when compar'd with thine

GALATEA..

Expound me this, and I'll difclaim the prize,
Whofe luftre blushes with Peruvian dies.
When crowing foxes whiftle in their dens,
Or radiant hornpipes dance to cocks and hens,
What makes fly Reynard and his cackling mate,
That fav'd the capitol, refign to fate?

PASTORA.

But fee, Aquarius fills his ample vafe,
And Taurus warbles to Vitruvian laws :
So, crab-like Cancer all her fpeed affumes,
And Virgo, ftill a maid, elaftic blooms.
My rofe-lipt ewes in myftic wonder ftand
To hear me fing, and court my confcious hand.
Adieu, my goats; for ne'er fhall rural mufe
Your philofophic beards to ftroke refufe.

An Ironical Eulogium on IGNORANCE. By Dr. CLANCY, of Durrow, in Ireland.

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And keeps them ever by delufion
In dark irregular confufion.

The fureft calm that can allay
The ftorms of life's tempeftuous fea,
Is found in undisturb'd repofe,
Whence every juft contentment flows:
Thus in the thoughtlefs, careless mind,
The feat of real blifs we find.

O Ignorance! thou darling child
Of nature, like thy parent mild;
Thou precious gift, beftow'd at birth,
To form our happiness on earth;
Involv'd in thee, we bid defiance
To all the rocks and crags of science:
In thy fafe port fecure we fleep,
While Learning ploughs the toilfome deep;
Thy influ'nce makes the blockhead fcribble
Conundrums quaint, and far-fetch'd quibble;
Makes Anti-Chriftian preach,
And cow-boys Greek and Latin teach;
Phyficians gravely mix a potion,
That cures all ills by ftopping motion;
The foggy lawyers make defence
Against all rules of common fense;
Dull magiftrates on benches nod,
And vainly hold the ufelefs rod :
Make statesmen loll in fplendor, brewing
Their master's and the nation's ruin.

From love, the choiceft boon that Heav'n
Has by its kind indulgence giv'n,
Is ev'ry ftore of fweetnefs flown,
When fecrets once are too well known :
Thus, all the joys of life's short trance
Confift in downright Ignorance.

Knowledge! withdraw thy hated rays;
We love obfcurity and ease:
Extend thy glimm'ring light no more,
But let us yawn, and fleep, and fnore:
Since not e'en Berkley's vifions faw
Th' intrinfic parts that form a ftraw;
Nor Newton, more than mortals wife,
Who fathom'd earth, and feas, and fkies,
Cou'd ever truly understand

The effence of one grain of fand.

The

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TH

An Account of Books for 1767.

HE Hiftory of the Life of King Henry the Second, and of the Age in which he lived, in five Books: to which is prefixed, a Hiftory of the Re volutions of England from the Death Edward the Confeffor to the Birth of Henry the Second. By George Lord Lyttelton. [3 vols. 4to.]

A

S there is, perhaps, no study fo delightful as that of hi ftory, fo there is no hiftory foufe ful as that of our own country. The very early accounts of England, as of all other antient nations, being founded on fable, the reading of any thing relating to thofe dark ages, may be confidered merely as an amusement. But from the time that the different king doms of the heptarchy were united under one government; that the Anglo Saxon conftitution began to be compleatly formed; and that many facts became properly afcertained; every part of the hiftory of England becomes an object of confideration.

The noble author of the excellent work before us, has chofen one of the moft critical, the most diftinguished, and the most interefting periods, for the fubject of his history. To his age of Henry the fecond he has prefixed a history of the revolutions which happened in England from the death of Edward the Confeffor to the birth of that prince. And as the hiftory of King Stephen is in

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cluded in the first book of the age of Henry the fecond, we have thereby a compleat history of England and of its continental connections, for that interefting period of above an hundred years. In this period we fee the conqueft of one mighty nation by another; the union and incorporation of both nations; the manner how by flow degrees they were melted into one; and their urited acts under fome of the greateft monarchs that ever lived. The noble writer traces out with the greatest accuracy, the degrees by which the Norman feudal system was engrafted upon, and interwoven with the Anglo Saxon constitution; from whence, through various modifications, proceeds that excellent form which we enjoy at present.

This is a part of our history, which requires the greateft labour, judgment, and knowledge, to inveftigate; and which, though effentially requifite to be known by every Englishman of confideration in his country, is the most involved in obfcurity, the leaft generally understood, and the part as to which modern writers differ moft in opinion. For this, many caufes may be affigned; most of our writers have been influenced by fome or other of the parties into which we have been fo frequently divided, and which are perhaps fo neceffary for the prefervation of a free ftate. From hence it has proceeded, that too

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