BELSHAZZAR. BY WILLIAM CASE, JUN, How curs'd the wretch, to dire Ambition held In balmy slumber hush'd! Though at thy throne And kiss'd the hand they fear'd, and troul'd the tongue Of flattery, they could not hail thee heir Of Heaven's sweet Eden! Though thy palace walls In all the pride of Ormuz beam'd-those gaudes, How ON A BEAUTIFUL LADY WHO HAD BUT ONE EYE. BY THEOPHILUS SWIFT, ESQ. If one bright eye such mischief singly do, many murders had she done with two! But if I perish once by that one eye, Give her a second, and I twice shall die. THE SAME, TRANSLATED INTO LATIN. BY EDMUND SWIFT, ESQ. Tor clades tantasque Oculus si spargeret unus, A SONG, BY DR. OGILVIE. WRITTEN IN EARLY LIFE. BENEATH a cool shade, Where fair Chloe had stray'd, Her wishes, unseen, to discover; To the Gods oft she cried, And implored as she sigh'd, That great Jove would but grant her a lover. Poor Cupid behind, In a grove lay reclin'd, Whither Venus to rest had convey'd him ; When he heard out the pray'r, He soon found with despair, That though blind, yet his ears had betray'd him. He tugg'd at the dart That stuck fast in his heart, And he tried the soft passion to smother; Till he heard once again, And soon found by the pain That his breast had been pierced with another. Then ne stamp'd, and he swore, When by his own darts he was wounded; Both with rage, and with love, To the Nymph then he came, And first told her his name, Then cried, " Madam, I swear that I love ye, "And vow by old Styx, "(For a speech were prolix) "That no other shall ever remove ye." Fair Chloe rejoin'd, "Sir, your vows are but wind, "Without pledge I'd not credit my "When these shafts I secure, ""Tis but then I'll be sure mother: "That my Cupid can ne'er love another." So the bargain was made In her love-darting eyes she has set 'em; And can ne'er fail to kill, As oft as the Fair will but let 'em. Now ye Beaus have a care, Of this Charmer beware, If you venture one look you are dead Sir; In vain were your hope, When once caught, to elope, Though your heels were as light as your heads are. VERVERT. CANTO I. Translated from the French of Gresset, BY MISS PEARSON. O YOU, near whom each solitary grace, Since at your wish I venture to relate, O be my muse-give me the glowing fire, Teach me the tender strains breath'd from your lyre, When fair Fidelia, in life's early bloom, Torn from your arins, was shrouded in the tomb : Tears from the brightest eyes that read his fame. His wanderings, and his errors, known too late, Sealing with drowsy charm the reader's eyes; Might ask Mythology's creative aids, Call Gods and Demons from ideal shades, |