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Miscellanies in Prose and Verse

By Mrs. Catherine Jemmat
 

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An ODE presented to a NOBLEMAN on his Birth-Day.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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An ODE presented to a NOBLEMAN on his Birth-Day.

To sov'reign Jove what shall I pray,
For Pollio, on his natal day?
Not titles; with their pomp he's crown'd,
Deriv'd from ancestors renown'd;
Not riches, with their flow he's blest;
Not genius, Clio warms his breast;
Not learning, boundless is his store;
Not patriot fire—Rome scarce breath'd more.
“What means this flourish, flattering knave?
(Cries Pollio) “Say, what would'st thou crave?”
Pollio, believe, with soul sincere
Thy social virtues I revere,

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Am struck when I thy form survey,
As Indians with the God of day;
For thou'rt to me, as cheering light,
And all that can the thought delight.
Hence thou my ev'ry wish must claim,
For lengthen'd years, and health, and fame.
To charm thee, Hymen gave a fair,
Among her sex a phœnix rare.—
A son (ye fates) to stretch thy line,
A son, then will each joy be thine!