And my divine Althea brings, To whisper at my gates; The birds that wanton in the aire, Know no such libertye. When flowing cups run swiftly round, Our careless heads with roses croun'd, Know no such libertee. Stone walls do not a prison make, Nor iron bars a cage, That for a hermitage. If I have freedom in my love, JENNY AND CHLOE. The moon's pale lustre, and the lamp's dim ray, And she's the same dear, charming, Jenny still. TO CELIA. BY BEN JONSON. Drink to me only with thine eyes, The thirst that from the soul doth rise, But might I of Jove's nectar sip, I sent thee, late, a rosy wreath, But thou thereon didst only breathe Since when it grows and smells, I swear, Not of itself, but thee. GALLANT REBUKE OF GEORGE II. The privilege of the family of De Courcy, Barons of Kinsale, to wear their hats in the King's presence, is well known, although not at all times exercised. Soon after the accession of George II. to the throne, the then Lord Kinsale, who had just come to his title, was introduced at court with the usual ceremo nies. Whether from mistake in etiquette, or from pride, instead of putting on his hat and immediately taking it off again, Lord Kinsale walked about the drawing room for a considerable time with his hat on. The courtiers all stared, and the whole assembly was thrown into some embarrassment. The King noticing the circumstance, politely went up to his Lordship, and told him very good naturedly, that he believed he was under some mistake, for although he had an undoubted right to wear his hat before him, yet his Lordship appeared to have forgotten that there were ladies in the room. Lord Kinsale instantly felt the rebuke, bowed, and took off his hat. WRITTEN ON AN HOUR GLASS. THE FAIR SCHOLAR. BY HORACE WALPOLE. Addressed to a French Lady learning English. Scholars, like you, but slowly can improve, For who would teach you but the verb--I love. THE SNOW BALL. White as her hand, fair Julia threw A ball of silver snow; The frozen globe fir'd as it flew, My bosom felt its glow. Strange power of love! whose great command Can thus a snow-ball arm, E'en ice itself can warm. ΤΟ ΑΝΝΑ. BY ROBERT BURNS. Anna, thy charms my bosom fire, And waste my soul with care; Yet in thy presence, lovely fair, To hope, may be forgiv'n; So much in sight of Heav'n! How should we then secure our hearts? F Who thus can, by strange magic arts, "Tis thou, alone, fair Julia know, Can'st quench my fierce desire ; And not by Water, Ice, or Snow, But by an equal fire. LORD SALISBURY'S IMPROMPTU. To a fly on a Lady's lip. Oh, happy, happy fly, If I were you, and you were I, And you would be Lord Salisbury. THE INVENTION OF KISSING, BY DR. WOLCOT. When we dwell on the lips of the lass we adore, May his soul be in heav'n! he deserv'd it, I'm sure, Master Adam, I verily think, was the man And since the sweet game with creation began, |