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A collection of poems on various subjects

including the theatre, a didactic essay; in the course of which are pointed out, the rocks and shoals to which deluded adventurers are inevitably exposed. Ornamented with cuts and illustrated with notes, original letters and curious incidental anecdotes [by Samuel Whyte]

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THE ANNIVERSARY.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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170

THE ANNIVERSARY.

TO ARPASIA, ON ENTERING HER TWENTIETH YEAR.
While others, lavish in exalted lays,
Proclaim thy triumphs and record thy praise,
Whence comes it I, the tuneful tribe among,
Alone, withhold the tribute of my song?
Nor, while admiring crowds their offerings bring,
Even on thy birth-day, say one civil thing?
So much applauded, honour'd and endear'd,
Child of my care! has it not strange appear'd?
I might, 'tis true, have gardens rang'd and fields,
And cull'd the choicest treasures Flora yields;
The breathing violet and the blushing rose,
With every opening sweet the spring bestows,
Thy lovely bosom might conspire to grace,
Yet faintly match the wonders of thy face.
To trace the lustre of thy speaking eyes,
I might have roam'd, like brother bards, the skies;
And when I thro' the angelic choir had run,
Have tipp'd their beams with radiance from the sun.
With equal ease, propriety and truth,
I might to Hebe's have compar'd thy youth;

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And brought each nymph of old and modern times,
Renown'd for charms, to decorate my rhymes;
And if, to image thy enchanting form,
A kindred soul could polish'd marble warm,
The all-perfect Medicean Venus might,
With thy resemblance dazzle human sight:
While gaily round, alluding to the day,
The officious nereïds dance and tritons play,
And in cool grot or amaranthine bowers,
Commit thee to the loves and festive hours.
The soft-ey'd graces with their charge elate,
To deck their smiling queen might ready wait,
And with ambrosial dews imbue the lips,
Where cupid revels and enraptur'd sips.
Such the conceits, when beauty is the theme,
On which full oft our fancy-mongers dream;
But, hunting wit, tho' nature they disguise,
Applied to thee, it proves at least they have eyes.
To pen thy praise were but a waste of parts;
All who behold thee feel it in their hearts.
To me the more important care's assign'd,
To form thy judgment and improve thy mind;
To call the native powers of genius forth,
And on the public ear impress thy worth.
Scorning inferior arts, be thine the scheme
To gain the plaudit of deserv'd esteem,

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Whate'er illusive prospects court thy view,
The onward paths of excellence pursue;
Nor too securely loiter in the chace,
A trifle lost the Grecian maid the race;
And, whatsoe'er the colour or pretence,
Let not good nature supersede good sense.
Envy may carp and calumny invade;
No power can conscious rectitude degrade.
The time arrives, how flattering to my hope!
When thy consummate talents shall have scope,
And all the virtues latent in thy breast
Break into day, conspicuous and confess'd.
And, if the page of fate I truly read,
Illum'd with laurel'd gold, it stands decreed,
In future story when thy name shall shine,
Her rosy finger fame shall point to mine,
And, emulous thy merits to display,
Succeeding poets sing the twelfth of May.