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Not Berenice's locks could boast

A grace like thine! Among the host

Of stars though now transformed, they guide
The doubtful sailor through the nightly tide;

Nor Venus, when a form like thine
She chose, to veil her charms divine,
And gave her tresses unconfined,

To wave and wanton in the balmy wind.

TO A LADY WHO WAS FOND OF DRESS.

ANOTHER TRANSLATION OF THE SAME, BY THE
REV. JOHN HAMPSON.

[From a Volume of Poems. Sunderland, 1793, 8vo.]

ENOUGH, my Celia! lay these arts aside,
Nor dress thee with such nice superfluous care;
These only serve thy num'rous charms to hide,
And but disguise the face that 's truly fair.

As void of art the rural verdure blooms,
When Flora pours her beauties o'er the plain,
Nor envies the rich garden its perfumes,
In splendid pomp magnificently vain;

As unconstrained the silver fountains glide,

And softly wind their murm'ring streams along, While from the spray that trembles o'er the tide,

The tuneful choir their untaught notes prolong;

Yet please the more; since nature's magic hand
In charms unrivalled decks the sylvan scene,
With her own skill informs th' aerial band,
And with her pencil paints the living green:

So thee, in thine own genuine charms arrayed,
And simple elegance, unspoiled by art,
What mortal but must hail the brightest maid,
Thy conquest own, and yield his willing heart?

Love unadorned abhors the pomp of dress,

Its borrowed splendour, and its vain disguise,
But who the powers of nature can express,
Or paint the charm that lurks in Celia's eyes?

Since then superior beauty needs no foil,

Thy graceful tresses, gentle Celia, spare, Torture no more those lovely locks, nor soil With odoriferous dust thy golden hair.

Not such famed Ptolemy's transcendant queen,
In all her pride of beauty e'er could boast,
Though now with brightest constellations seen,
And shining radiant 'midst the heavenly host;

Nor Cytherea, when to meet her son,

Her state divine the goddess left behind,
A form like thine the queen of love put on,
And her loose tresses wantoned in the wind.

THE LINK.

A BALLAD.

[From the 4th vol. of Dodsley's Collection.

The Link was the name of

a favourite walk, on the brow of a hill, near Ovington.]

Ye ladies, that live in the city or town,

Fair Winton, or Alresford, so fine and so gay; And ye neat country lasses, in clean linen gown,

As neat, and as blithe, and as pretty, as they;

Come away straight to Ovington'; for you can't think
What a charming new walk there is made on the Link.

Look how lovely the prospect, the meadows how green,
The fields and the woods, in the vale or the hill;
The trees, and the cottage that peeps out between,
The clear stream that runs bubbling in many a rill,
That will show your fair face as you stand on the brink,
And murmurs most sweetly all under the Link.

How pleasant the morning, how clear the blue sky,
How pure the fresh air, and how healthy the place!
Your heart gives a pit-a-pat light as a fly,

And the blood circles briskly, and glows in your face. Would you paint your fair cheeks with the rose and the pink? Throw your washes away, take a walk on the Link.

After dinner the squire, ere the ladies retreat,

Marches off with some friends that will ply the brisk glass; Give us liquor enough, and a good pleasant seat, And avaunt your fine taste, and your finical lass; Al fresco, my lads, we'll carouse and we'll drink, Take your bottle each man, and away to the Link.

Not so gentle Colin, whom love holds in thrall,

To Molly he steals all in silence away;

And when nought can be heard but the rude waterfall,

And the woodbine breathes sweetest at close of the day,

He takes her soft hand, and he tips her the wink,
Come, my dear, let us take a cool walk on the Link.

But, O ye fair maidens, be sure have a care,
Nor lay yourselves open to love's cruel dart;

Of the hour and the place and the season beware,
And guard well each passage that leads to your heart:

1 A village, near Alresford, in Hampshire.

Sly Cupid will steal in at some little chink,

If you walk in the evening too late on the Link.

Ye poets so lofty, who love to retire

From the noise of the town, to the stream and the wood; Who in epics and tragics, with marvellous fire,

Utter sounds by mere mortals not well understood: Here mouth your loud strain, and here ply pen and ink, Quit Parnassus and Pindus, and come to the Link.

And come you, who for thought are at little expense,

Who indite gentle pastoral, ballad, or song;

You see with smooth numbers, and not too much sense,
How the verses run easy and glibly along;

And the rhyme at the close how it falls with a clink,-
So kind are the muses that sport on the Link.

REVERENDO DOCTISSIMOQUE

ROBERTO FRIEND, S.T.P.

ECCLESIÆ DIVI PETRI WESTMONAST. PREBENDARIO,

ET ÆDIS CHRISTI OXON. CANONICO.

[From the Gentleman's Magazine for 1737.]

De te, Friende, duæ certant socialiter ædes,
Hæc Christi insignis nomine, et ille Petri;
Quæ potior charum titulis ornaret alumnum,
Jamque senem posset læta fovere sinu.
Illustris fuerat Ducis hanc componere litem,
Utraque quem voluit mater, utrique dedit.

Dat. 10 Kal. Julii,

A. S. 1737

R. L.

494

TO DR. FRIEND.

TRANSLATION, BY THE EDITOR.

grace,

Thy nurture, Friend, two rival buildings claim,
(St. Peter's this, that bears a holier name,)
With reverend title which their ward should
And soothe his labours in the lap of peace.
A noble Duke' prevents their rising ire,
And gives to each the boon they both desire.

HANNE MORE.

VIRGINI PIÆ, ERUDITÆ, ELEGANTI; INGENIO, FACUNDIA, ET SAPIENTIA, PARITER ILLUSTRI.

[From Valpy's Classical Journal.]

" OMNES Sulpiciam legant puellæ 2;"
Omnes hanc pueri legant senesque,
Omnes hanc hilares, et hanc severi.
Quæ palmam geminas tulit per artes,
"Et vinctæ pede vocis, et solutæ."
Cujus qui pede legerit soluta,
Nullam dixerit esse tersiorem ;

66

Cujus carmina qui benè æstimarit,
Nullam dixerit esse sanctiorem."

Huic adsunt Charites, faventque Musæ,
Dum sic pectora virginum tenella
Pulchris imbuit artibus, sequaces
Exemplo, monitis, amore, nutu,
Informans animos: styloque signat,
Mox ventura quod Addisonianis
Possint sæcula comparare chartis.

1781.

Of Newcastle.

R. LONDON.

2 Martial x. 35.

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