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ASH TED CO T. *

TIR'D with the noise and smoke of town,

Its crowded streets and sumptuous fare,
To Alhted Cot we oft steal down :

Who wish for Peace may find her there.

There stretch the ample prospects wide,

Fields, woods, down, hills and spires appear;
The tempting walk, the grateful ride,

Invite thro' all the varied year.

Or there, or no where can be found,

Health, ever rosy, ever gay;
Content there tills his narrow ground,

And sings the toils of life away.

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No foreign dainties glitter there;

Yet rural plenty there is known ;
The home-rear'd poultry's oft your fare,

And mutton fed on Banited Dowo.

The garden, hemm'd in little space,

Is glad its herbs and fruits to send :
Ne'er is forgot the thankful grace,

Nor wine to toast the absent friend.

A villa belonging to T-T, Esq. Alhted is a small village between Epsom and Leatherhead, in Surry.

Nor

IV.

So inay you never, never hear

The gun dread-sounding thro' the air, So may you never, never fear

The cruel school-boy’s limy snare.

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WHEN Jupiter's high mettl'd dame

(As we read in Dan Homer the story) Had a mind his cold breast to inflame,

And to fhine with additional glory.

She order'd her peacocks and car,

And then flew to the Queen of the doves, Who liv'd from her palace not far,

In the midst of the Graces and Loves.

# Dear Venus," thus flow'd her smooth speech,

« Prythee lend me your cestus to-day, 6 To repair a small conjugal breach ;

“ And be quick, for I foon muit away

6 I must

! I must haste to unite a good pair,

66 Who took care of me when I was young, " And each other now hardly can bear,

" Having both been by Jealousy ftung."

Her secret design she couceald,

(So should women act when they're married) For she knew if it once was reveald,

It would soon round Olympus be carried.

The blithe Goddess not guessing her drift,

On her waste tied the ceftus of pleasure, And the cloud-ruler's fifter, then swift

As his eagle, whirld off with her treasure.

In this girdle was curioufly stitch'd

The attractions which toying inspire, And moreover, 'twas finely enrich'd

With all arts to re-kindle desire.

In this girdle, good-humour and ease,

Sweet words and fond looks were exprefs'd, A perpetual endeavour to please,

And a face ivith gay smiles ever dress’d.

Poffess'd of so rich a machine,

She was eager its virtues to try,
And then leaving the love-darting Queen,

Shot a thousand bright beains from each eye.

То

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To the Thund'rer the then, as by chance,

Half her beauties with cunning display'd, From her eye shot a languishing glance,

And then glided away like a Made.

But she dazzl'd the eyes of grim Jove,

Who embrac'd her with conjugal arms, And within a delicious alcove,

He enjoy'd with new spirit her charms.

Ye wives, lend an ear to this sample

Of the Grecian bard's shrewdness and art, And by politic Juno's example,

Learn to conquer a husband's cold heart..

When the passion of Love's in its wane,

And ye cease to be objects of joy, Ye must try the cold heart to regain,

By those beauties which never will cloy.

THE PIGEON'S CHOICE

To ev'ry fair a pigeon rova,
By ev'ry fair alike belov'd :
Where'er he flew, the female train
Practise their wiles his heart to gain ;

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Bridle the neck, and till and coo,
And imitate what women do.
At length he found that too much joy,
Must soon his vig'rous health destroy ;
So thought it prudent to give over,
Assume the husband, drop the lover.

At first, the Fan-tail nymph he tries,
Who, in a moment, met his eyes :
Her heart exults with inward pride,
And Fancy fix'd her for his bride.
Secure of conquest, the neglected
The real charms the youth expected.
No gentle manners, no concession ;
All must be left to her discretion :
Whilst vanity and affcctation
Supplied the place of sense and station,
" He could not answer to his conseience,
". To be confin'd to pride and nonsense :
" A inistress thus was right and civil,
66 But, in a wife, they were the devil !"
So left the nymph to strut alone,
Regardless of her idle moan.

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The Carrier, a pigeon sleek,
With ruddy bill, and snowy neck,
Caught his desires ; but yet the dame
Had but a sort of doubtful fame,

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