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urn awaits; 20 But the liberal grant in vain Tempts me to be wild again. Can a prudent dove decline Blissful bondage such as mine? Over hills and fields to roam, Fortune's guest without a home; Under leaves to hide one's head, Slightly shelter'd, coarsely fed: Now my better lot bestows Sweet repast, and soft repose: 30 Now the generous bowl I sip, As it leaves Anacreon's lip: Void of care and free from dread, From his fingers snatch his bread; Then with luscious plenty gay, Round his chamber dance and play; Or from wine as courage springs, O'er his face extend my wings; And when feast and frolic tire, Drop asleep upon his lyre. 40 This is all, be quick and go, More than all thou canst not know; Let me now my pinions ply, I have chatter'd like a pye. * * * * * LINES WRITTEN IN RIDICULE OF CERTAIN POEMS PUBLISHED IN 1777. Wheresoe'er I turn my view, All is strange, yet nothing new; Endless labour all along, Endless labour to be wrong; Phrase that time has flung away, Uncouth words in disarray, Trick'd in antique ruff and bonnet, Ode, and elegy, and sonnet. * * * * * PARODY OF A TRANSLATION FROM THE MEDEA OF EURIPIDES. 1 Err shall they not, who resolute explore Time's gloomy backward with judicious eyes; And, scanning right the practices of yore, Shall deem our hoar progenitors unwise. 2 They to the dome where smoke with curling play Announced the dinner to the regions round, Summon'd the singer blithe, and harper gay, And aided wine with dulcet-streaming sound. 3 The better use of notes, or sweet or shrill, By quivering string or modulated wind, Trumpet or lyre--to their harsh bosoms chill, Admission ne'er had sought, or could not find. 4 Oh! send them to the sullen mansions dun, Her baleful eyes where Sorrow rolls around; Where gloom-enamour'd Mischief loves to dwell, And Murder, all blood-bolter'd, schemes the wound. 5 When cates luxuriant pile the spacious dish, And purple nectar glads the festive hour; The guest, without a want, without a wish, Can yield no room to music's soothing power. * * * * * BURLESQUE
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