O Kneller! could thy shades and lights express The perfect hero in that glorious dress, Ages to come might Ormond's picture know, And palms for thee beneath his laurels grow; In spite of time thy work might ever shine, Nor Homer's colours last so long as thine.

UPON THIS

PASSAGE IN THE SCALIGERIANA,

Les Allemans ne se soucient pas quel vin ils boivent, pourveu que ce soit vin; ni quel Latin ils parlent, pourveu que ce soit Latin.

WHEN you with High-Dutch Heeren dine,
Expect false Latin and stum'd wine:
They never taste, who always drink;
They always talk, who never think.

ON MY BIRTH-DAY,

JULY 21.

I, my dear, was born to-day,
So all my jolly comrades say;
They bring me music, wreaths, and mirth,
And ask to celebrate my birth.
Little, alas! my comrades know
That I was born to pain and woe,
To thy denial, to thy scorn;
Better I had ne'er been born:
I wish to die even whilst I say,
'I, my dear, was born to-day.'

I, my dear, was born to-day;
Shall I salute the rising ray?
Well-spring of all my joy and woe,
Clotilda! thou alone dost know :
Shall the wreath surround my hair?
Or shall the music please my ear?
Shall I my comrades' mirth receive,
And bless my birth, and wish to live?
Then let me see great Venus chase
Imperious anger from thy face;
Then let me hear thee smiling say,
Thou, my dear, wert born to-day.'

LOVE DISARMED.

BENEATH a myrtle's verdant shade,
As Chloe half asleep was laid,
Cupid perch'd lightly on her breast,
And in that heaven desired to rest;
Over her paps his wings he spread,
Between he found a downy bed,
And nestled in his little head.

Still lay the god: the nymph, surprised,
Yet, mistress of herself, devised
How she the vagrant might enthral,
And captive him who captives all.
Her bodice half way she unlaced,
About his arms she slily cast
The silken bond, and held him fast.

The god awaked, and thrice, in vain, He strove to break the cruel chain: And thrice, in vain, he shook his wing, Encumber'd in the silken string.

Fluttering the god, and weeping, said, 'Pity poor Cupid, generous Maid, Who happen'd, being blind, to stray, And on thy bosom lost his way; Who stray'd, alas! but knew, too well, He never there must hope to dwell. Set an unhappy prisoner free, Who ne'er intended harm to thee.'

To me pertains not (she replies)
To know or care where Cupid flies;
What are his haunts, or which his way,
Where he would dwell, or whither stray;
Yet will I never set thee free,

For harm was meant, and harm to me.'
Vain fears that vex thy virgin heart;
I'll give thee up my bow and dart,
Untangle but this cruel chain,
And freely let me fly again.'

Agreed: secure my virgin heart;
Instant give up thy bow and dart;
The chain I'll in return untie,
And freely thou again shalt fly.'
Thus she the captive did deliver,
The captive thus gave up his quiver.
The god disarm'd, e'er since that day
Passes his life in harmless play;
Flies round, or sits upon her breast,
A little, fluttering, idle guest.

E'er since that day the beauteous maid Governs the world in Cupid's stead, Directs his arrows as she wills,

Gives grief or pleasure, spares or kills.