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? 4th ode of 2d book of Horace

   By Lord Townshend address'd to lt Andrews late

?ort of Trinity College Dublin Blush not, dear Andrews, nor disclaim [A] passion for a matchless dame. Who kindles in all hearts a flame

  By Beauty's magic force:

But though o're Dollys lovely head [Su]mmers twice ten are scarcely fled [Is] it on account descreet she must refuse of course? [Miltdo]wn, coeval with thy sire [Dur]st a blooming maid aspire [An]d felt or feigned a lovers fire at seventy three or more; [Blig]h who in Churchills Battles bled [?]k a young virgin to his Bed, horrid dreams disturbed his head Though tottering at fourscore.

[In]trepid Lucas lame and old [Be]reft of Eyesight, health and gold [To] a green Girl his passion told and clasp'd the youthful bride; [Then] prithee quiet this face of care [Le]t not your Looks presage despair, [Be] jovial, brisk and debonnaire,

     My Life you're not denied!

[N]or think my friend, because I praise ?er Breasts that gently fall & raise, [He]r autumn hair, her radiant Eyes I envy your espousals:

No Rival passion fires my breast, Long since now amorous pains at rest; Nay more -- to prove what Ive professt I[']ll -- carry your proposals!