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The Works of Richard Owen Cambridge

Including several pieces never before published: with an account of his life and character, by his son, George Owen Cambridge

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A DIALOGUE
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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316

A DIALOGUE

BETWEEN SIR RICHARD LYTTELTON AND THE THAMES.

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In Imitation of Horace, B. 3. Ode 9.

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[WRITTEN IN THE YEAR 1763.]

Sir Richard.
WHILE fondly I triumph'd alone in your breast,
And none else to your bosom so closely you prest,
No monarch on earth was so happy as I:
I envy'd no king of a land that was dry.


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Thames.
While you on my banks was contented to stray,
With the days and the months I roll'd glibly away.
Nor envy'd I then ('tis no treason I hope)
The Tweed her lord Bute, or the Tiber her Pope.

Sir Richard.
Piccadilly, it must be confest, has its charms:
By the prospect allured I deserted your arms:
Tho' the cielings were damp and the walls hardly dry,
I'd have gone there tho' Burroughs had sworn I should die.

Thames.
Your neighbour, Sir Charles, has employ'd ev'ry art
With resistless allurements to ravish my heart.

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To gaze on his charms with delight I could stay
From morning to night, from December to May.

Sir Richard.
Should your lover prove false and abandon your shore,
Rebuilding his house where 'twas founded before?
Should I, loaded with picture and statue and urn,
To present you the spoils of the Tiber, return?

Thames.
Tho' inconstant in thought you should often be stealing
To your loved Piccadilly, or even to Ealing:
Your walls would I clasp in my amorous arms,
And swell with delight to contemplate your charms.