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THE TRIUMPHS


Here beaux esprits in various figures lurk,
Of Jew and Gentile, Bramin, Tartar, Turk;
But of the manly masks, a youthful bard
Seem'd most to challenge beauty's soft regard:
Adorn'd with native elegance, he wore
In simplest form, the minstrel dress of yore:
They call him Edwin, who around him throng,
Edwin, immortaliz'd in Beattie's song;
And, sooth to say, within a comely frame
He bore a heart that answer'd to the name;
For this neat habit deck'd a generous youth,
Of gentlest manners, and sincerest truth.
Tho' on his birth propitious Fortune smil'd,
No proud parental folly spoil'd the child;
And Genius, more beneficently kind,
Blest with superior wealth his manly mind.
Of years he barely counted twenty-one;
But, like a brilliant morn, his opening life begun.
Fain would the Muse on this her votary dwell,
And fully paint the youth she loves so well;