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Under a lawn, than skies more clear, Some ruffled roses nestling were: And, snugging there, they seem'd to lie As in a flowery nunnery: They blush'd, and look'd more fresh than flowers Quicken'd of late by pearly showers, And all because they were possess'd But of the heat of Julia's breast: Which, as a warm and moisten'd spring, Gave them their ever-flourishing.

Woe, woe to them, who, by a ball of strife, Do, and have parted here a man and wife: Charles the best husband, while Maria strives To be, and is, the very best of wives, Like streams, you are divorc'd; but 'twill come when These eyes of mine shall see you mix again. Thus speaks the oak here; C. and M. shall meet, Treading on amber, with their silver-feet, Nor will't be long ere this accomplish'd be: The words found true, C. M., remember me. Oak, the prophetic tree.

As oft as night is banish'd by the morn, So oft we'll think we see a king new born.