SONNET, left on the Dutchess of Devonshire's Breakfast-table, in consequence of calling on her Grace at Noon…

What makes thy looks so fair and bright, Divine Aurora, say? " Because, from slumbers short and light, " I rise to 'wake the day!" O hide, for shame, thy blushing face! 'Tis all poetic fiction! To tales like these see Devon's Grace A blooming contradiction. The old Watchman of Piccadilly.