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Ill do they love, and feel thee at their heart,
Who seem unmov'd while others hope thee their's;
My kindling bosom burns with open smart,
For my proud soul her unveil'd meaning wears.

Nice as thy own, and all refin'd as thine,
My towering passion climbs with generous flame;
But, shrinking from neglect, in sad decline
Burns downward, and forgoes a frustrate aim.

Tender as infant sighs, in slumbering ease,

My softening soul admits and owns thy sway: 'Tis my life's sweetest care, thy taste to please; And in thy sunshine melt my griefs away.

Woes are too weak to wound me through thy smiles,
The pole's fix'd frost were warm as heaven to me,
I tread down malice through her mazy wiles,
And triumph over all things-charming thee!

What task so dangerous, or what toil so vast,
Would not thy love inspire me to defy ?
Soul'd with immortal fire, my flame must last;
And I should conquer worlds, beneath thy eye.

O! that my struggling thoughts, which heave within,
Could borrow but a voice; and speak my soul !
Then would this heart thy grateful passions win,
Till-oh, vast empire !-I should claim the whole.

Yet, as it is, indulge my trembling fear,

And give thy lover's counsel leave to speak: Fools are all false, nor long can hold thee dear, For soon they find whate'er they know to seek.

Boastful, ungenerous, vain, and grossly mean, On all thy charms they only feed their sense; Thou art by them but as mere woman seen, Blind to thy heaven of inward excellence.

Sudden the wretches' smoky flames expire ;
Such earthly fuel must of course decay;
But I, while adoration lifts desire,

Light up a love that ne'er can burn away.

SAMUEL SAY.

1725.

The Rev. Samuel Say, son of an ejected Minister, and born about the year 1675, was educated at the Dissenters' Academy in London, then superintended by Mr. T. Rowe, where he experienced the gratification of being contemporary with Watts, and other distinguished sectarists. Some time Pastor of a Congregation at Ipswich, he afterwards succeeded Dr. Calamy in the Meeting latterly under the care of Dr. Kippis. He died April 12, 1743. Two years after his death, his poems appeared in one quarto volume, published by subscription. He left an only daughter, since married to Mr. Toms, a dissenting teacher. As a poet, Say has displayed no inconsiderable powers, particularly in those effusions in which he was inspired by the admiration of beauty, and the impulse of love.

FAIR Beech! that bear'st our interwoven names
Here grav'd, the token of our mingled flames,
Preserve the mark; and, as thy head shall rise,
Our loves shall heighten till they reach the skies;
The wounds in us, as these in thee, shall spread
Larger by time, and fairer to be read.

Stand, sacred tree! here, still inviolate stand;
By no rude axe profan'd, by no unhallow'd hand.
Be thou the tree of Love; and here declare,
That once a nymph was found as true as she was fair!

TO VALENTINE, ON THE RETURN OF SPRING.

HAIL, best of Bishops, and of Saints the best; By flaming Love distinguish'd from the rest; By love, the life in heaven, and business of the blest,

Love made the world! "Twas love alone could draw The disagreeing seeds to Nature's law;

Heaven saw the' effects of Love, and bless'd them when it saw.

Hence, mighty Saint, thy power deriv'd from Love, Thy great commission reaches all above;

And earth and sea beneath, and all that live and move.

Thou call'st the flowers! they feel the glad command;

On sunny banks in smiling rows they stand, Broke from their mother's womb, and drest by Nature's hand.

By thee the birds salute the welcome Spring, Inspir'd by thee and Love, in pairs they sing: With music and with joy the woods and vallies ring.

Fierce tigers yield to thee! To hear thy voice,
The gentle hind and rugged bears rejoice;

And fishes scud the waves, to meet their happy choice.

See, see, the cheerful morn! how bright it shines! With larger steps the Sun his course reclines, As conscious of thy day, and favouring thy designs:

All wed below, and he above would wed ;

The youthful Earth has drest her fragrant bed, And promises her shades to shroud her radiant head.

At his approach the storms and winter fly; The joyful bride her snowy vest lays by, Nor does, untimely coy, her naked form deny.

Ah! could thy power so warm Lucretia's heart, And make the winter there and cold depart; How wouldst thou bless a wretch, and ease his raging

smart!

Couldst thou but make her soul consent with mine, And with her heart her answering hands to join! For thee should Phœbus sing, and all the tuneful Nine.

While I in annual songs thy name would raise, Thy day should stand above the rest of days, All lovers bless the Saint! and crown my head with

bays!

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