On an Infant. To the dark and silent tomb Soon I hasted from the womb; Scarce the dawn of life began Ere I measur'd out my span. I no smiling pleasures knew ; I no gay delights could view; Joyless sojourner was I, Only born to weep and die. Happy infant, early blest! Rest, in peaceful slumber rest; Early reseu'd from the cares Which increase with growing years. No delights are worth thy stay, Smiling as they seem, and gay; Short and sickly are they all, Hardly tasted ere they pall. to charm. grace; Epitaph on Miss Drummond, in the Church of Sunk in her father's fond embrace, and died. Faith leads her aid to ease affliction's load; The parent mourns his child upon the bier, The christian yields an angel to his God. Epitaph on Mrs. Clarke. GRAY, On General Wolfe,in the Church of Westerham, But, when, retir'd amidst their rural bow'rs, An Incident in High Life. sat; THE Bucks had din'd, and deep in council "Start from the summit of the crystal pane wait sa west-country mayor, with formal address, WHILE George in sorrow bows his laurell'd was making his speech to the haughty Queen Bess: "The Spaniard," quoth he, And bids the artist grace the soldier dead- year; Struck with thy fall, we shed the gen'ral tear; The Prayer of a wise Heathen. (Thou knowest best what mortals want:) Ask'd or unask'd, what 's good supply;' What's evil-to our pray'rs deny! with inveterate Has presum'd to attack you, a poor virgin "queen; That the don had ta'en the wrong sow by "But your majesty's courage has made it appear "the ear." cries. [replies. JOLLY, brave toper, who could not forbes, "Fear not his head 's not charg'd," a friend A Though his life was in danger, old port s All ugly, old, odd things-I leave to you. stale beer, [drink co Gave the doctors the hearing-but still wo Till the dropsy had swell'd him as big as a tu The more he took physic the worse still grew, And tapping was now the last thing he cou Affairs at this crisis, and doctors come dont On erecting a Monument to Shakspeare, under He began to consider-so sent for his son. the Direction of Mr. Pope, Lord Burling-Tom, see by what courses I've shorten'd a ton, &c. tain's love, life, I am leaving the world ere I'm forty and fire More than probable 'tis, that in twenty-f hours Let Pope design, and Burlington approve : view one's youth. On Mr. Nash's Picture at full Length, between Says Tom (who's a lad of a generous spiri the Busts of Sir Isaac Newton and Mr. Pope, And not like young rakes, who 're in haste inherit) at Bath, THE old Egyptians hid their wit CHESTERFIELD. In hieroglyphic dress, And please themselves with guess. Sir, don't be dishearten'd; altho' it be true.] And then, as for years, you may yet be can EPIGRAMS from MARTIAL. CURMUDGEON the rich widow courts, Book iii. Ep. 43. EFORE a swan, behind a crow, BEF Such self-deceit ne'er did I know. Ah! cease your arts-Death knows you're gray, Book iv. Ep. 78. WITH lace bedizen'd comes the man, And I must dine with Lady Anne. A silver service loads the board, Ufcatables a slender hoard, 46 Your pride, and not your victuals spare; “I came to dine, and not to stare.” Book vii. Ep. 75. dukes in town ask thee to dine, Is there, enrich'd with virtue's honest store, WHEN Fannius should have 'scap'd his foe, The same. HIMSELF he slew, when he the foe would fly; What madness this-for fear of death to die! VARUS did lately me to supper call; The furniture was large, the feast but small, THOU, whom (if faith or honour recommends WHEN die their roast, and smack their wine; The izbrate it vanishes and dies. Or take thee to their country-seat," , dream not on preferment soon, A drunken husband, sottish wife, The devils in 't they don't agree. Book xii. Ep. 23. "I'll live to-morrow," will a wise man say? To-morrow is too late-then live to-day. From Martial, literally translated. A Landlord of Bath put upon me a queer hum: mere rum." Book ii. Ep. 41. end: I'm now your slave that would have been your I'll bow, I'll cringe, be supple as your glove- HAL says he's poor, in hopes you'll say he's not; • Merum is not translated at all. 3H 1 Book The noble sire of an exalted mind Epitaph on Miss Stanley. THOMSON. HEA, Stanley! rest, escap'd this mortal strife, Above the joys, beyond the woes of life. Fierce pangs no more thy lively beauty stain, And sternly try thee with a year of pain: No more sweet patience, feigning oft relief, Lights thy sick eye, to cheat a parent's grief: With tender art to save her anxious grown, No more thy bosom presses down its own: Now well-earn'd peace is thine, and bliss sinOurs be the lenient, not unpleasing tear! [cere: O! born to bloom, then sink beneath the To shew us Virtue in her fairest form; [stot, To shew us artless Reason's moral reign; What boastful Science arrogates in vain; Th' obedient passions, knowing each their par Caim light the head, and Harmony the heart! Yes, we must follow soon, will glad obey, When a few suns have roll'd their cares avr Tir'd with vain life, will close the willing ex Tis the great birthright of mankind to die. Blest be the bark that wafts us to the shore Where death-divided friends shall part no mor To join thee there, here with thy dust repa Is all the hope thy hapless mother knows. An Inscription on the Tomb raised to the Me of the Author's Father, and of others hisch Lord CLA cestors. |