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Now wanton'd lost in flags and reeds,
Now starting into sight,
With scarce a slower flight.
It was the time when Ouse display'd
His lilies newly blown;
And one I wish'd my own,
With cane extended far I sought
To steer it close to land; But still the prize, though nearly caught,
Escap'd my eager hand, .
Beau mark'd my unsuccessful pains
With fix'd consid'rate face,
To comprehend the case.
But with a cherup clear and strong,
Dispersing all his dream,
The windings of the stream.
My ramble ended, I return'd;
Beau, trotting far before,
And plunging left the shore. .
I saw him with that lily cropp'd
Impatient swim to meet My quick approach, and soon he dropp'd
The treasure at my feet.
Charm'd with the sight, the world, I cried,
Shall hear of this thy deed : My dog shall mortify the pride
Of man's superior breed:
But chief myself I will enjoin,
Awake at duty's call,
To Him who gives me all.
THE POET, THE OYSTER, AND
An Oyster, cast upon the shore,
Ah, hapless wretch! condemn'd to dwell
Was hurt, disgusted, mortified,
When, cry the botanists, and stare,
there? No matter when-a poet's muse is To make them grow just where she chooses.
You shapeless nothing in a dish,
many a gay unletter'd spark,
A poet, in his ev'ning walk, O’erheard and check'd this idle talk. And your fine sense, he said, and yours, Whatever evil it endures,
Deserves not, if so soon offended,
You, in your grotto-work enclos’d,
And as for you, my Lady Squeamish,
prove their owner half divine. His censure reach'd them as he dealt it, And each by shrinking show'd he felt it.