A WORD TO TWO YOUNG LADIES.

WHEN tender Rose-trees first receive On half-expanded Leaves, the Shower; Hope's gayest pictures we believe, And anxious watch each coining flower.

Then, if beneath the genial Sun That spreads abroad the full-blown May, Two infant Stems the rest out-run, Their buds the first to meet the day,

With joy their op'ning tints we view, While morning's precious moments fly: My pretty Maids, 'tis thus with you; The fond admiring gazer, I.

Preserve, sweet Buds, where'er you be; The richest gem that decks a Wife; The charm of female modesty: And let sweet Music give it life.

Still may the favouring Muse be found: Still circumspect the paths ye tread: Plant moral truths in Fancy's ground; And meet old Age without a dread.

Yet, ere that comes, while yet ye quaff The cup of Health without a pain, I'll shake my grey hairs when you laugh, And, when you sing, be young again.