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EPITAPHIUM ALTERUM.

Hic etiam jacet,
Qui totum novennium vixit,
Puss.

Siste paulisper,
Qui præteriturus es,
Et tecum sic reputa-
Hunc neque canis venaticus,
Nec plumbum missile,
Nec laqueus,

Nec imbres nimii,

Confecêre:

Tamen mortuus est

Et moriar ego.

Not so Tiney; upon him the kindest treatment had not the least effect. He too was sick, and in his sickness had an equal share of my attention; but if, after his recovery, I took the liberty to stroke him, he would grunt, strike with his fore feet, spring forward, and bite. He was however very entertaining in his way; even his surliness was matter of mirth, and in his play he preserved such an air of gravity, and performed his feats with such a solemnity of manner, that in him too I had an agreeable companion.

Bess, who died soon after he was full grown, and whose death was occasioned by his being turned into his box, which had been washed, while it was yet damp, was a hare of great humor and drollery. Puss was tamed by gentle usage; Tiney was not to be tamed at all; and Bess had a courage and confidence that made him tame from the beginning. I always admitted them into the parlor after supper, when, the carpet affording their feet a firm hold, they would frisk, and bound, and play a thousand gambols, in which Bess, being remarkably strong and fearless, was always superior to the rest, and proved himself the Vestris of the party. One evening,

THE following account of the treatment of his the cat being in the room, had the hardiness to pat Bess hares was inserted by Cowper in the Gentle-upon the cheek, an indignity which he resented by drumman's Magazine.

ming upon her back with such violence that the cat was happy to escape from under his paws, and hide herself.

I describe these animals as having each a character of his own. Such they were in fact, and their countenances were so expressive of that character, that, when I looked only on the face of either, I immediately knew which it was. It is said that a shepherd, however numerous his

In the year 1774, being much indisposed both in mind and body, incapable of diverting myself either with company or books, and yet in a condition that made some diversion necessary, I was glad of anything that would engage my attention, without fatiguing it. The children of a neighbor of mine had a leveret given them for a play-flock, soon becomes so familiar with their features, that thing; it was at that time about three months old. Understanding better how to tease the poor creature than to feed it, and soon becoming weary of their charge, they readily consented that their father, who saw it pining and growing leaner every day, should offer it to my accept ance. I was willing enough to take the prisoner under my protection, perceiving that, in the management of such an animal, and in the attempt to tame it, I should find just that sort of employment which my case required. It was soon known among the neighbors that I was pleased with the present, and the consequence was, that in a short time I had as many leverets offered to me as would have stocked a paddock. I undertook the care of three, which it is necessary that I should here distinguish by the names I gave them-Puss, Tiney, and Bess. Notwithstanding the two feminine appellatives, I must inform you that they were all males. Immediately commencing carpenter, I built them houses to sleep in; each had a separate apartment, so contrived that their ordure would pass through the bottom of it; an earthen pan placed under each received whatsoever fell, which being duly emptied and washed, they were thus kept perfectly sweet and clean. In the daytime they had the range of a hall, and at might retired each to his own bed, never intruding into that of another.

he can, by that indication only, distinguish each from all the rest; and yet, to a common observer, the difference is hardly perceptible. I doubt not that the same discrimination in the cast of countenances would be discoverable in hares, and am persuaded that among a thousand of them no two could be found exactly similar: a circumstance little suspected by those who have not had opportunity to observe it. These creatures have singular sagacity in discovering the minutest alteration that is made in the place to which they are accustomed, and instantly apply their nose to the examination of a new object. A small hole being burnt in the carpet, it was mended with a patch, and that patch in a moment underwent the strictest scrutiny. They seem too to be very much directed by the smell in the choice of their favorites: to some persons, though they saw them daily, they could never be reconciled, and would even scream when they attempted to touch them; but a miller coming in engaged their affections at once; his powdered coat had charms that were irresistible. It is no wonder that my intimate acquaintance with these specimens of the kind has taught me to hold the sportman's amusement in abhorrence; he little knows what amiable creatures he persecutes, of what gratitude they are capable, how cheerful they are in their spirits, what enjoyment they have of life, and that, impressed as they seem with a peculiar dread of man, it is only because man gives them peculiar cause for it.

That I may not be tedious, I will just give a short summary of those articles of diet that suit them best.

I take it to be a general opinion, that they graze, but it is an erroneous one, at least grass is not their staple; they seem rather to use it medicinally, soon quitting it for leaves of almost any kind. Sowthistle, dandelion, and lettuce, are their favorite vegetables, especially the last. I discovered by accident that fine white sand is in great estimation with them; I suppose as a digestive. It happened, that I was cleaning a birdcage when the hares were with me; I placed a pot filled with such sand upon the floor, which, being at once directed to it by a strong instinct, they devoured voraciously; since that time I have generally taken care to see them well supplied with it. They account green corn a delicacy, both blade and stalk, but the ear they seldom eat: straw of any kind, especially wheat-straw, is another of their dainties: they will feed greedily upon oats, but if furnished with clean straw never want them; it serves them also for a bed, and, if shaken up daily, will be kept sweet and dry for a considerable time. They do not indeed require aromatic herbs, but will eat a small quantity of them with great relish, and are particularly fond of the plant called musk; they seem to resemble sheep in the that, if their pasture be too succulent, they are very re

Puss grew presently familiar, would leap into my lap, raise himself upon his hinder feet, and bite the hair from my temples. He would suffer ine to take him up, and to carry him about in my arms, and has more than once fallen fast asleep upon my knee. He was ill three days, during which time I nursed him, kept him apart from his fellows, that they might not molest him (for, like many other wild animals, they persecute one of their own species that is sick,) and by constant care, and trying him with a variety of herbs, restored him to perfect health. No creature could be more grateful than my patient after his recovery; a sentiment which he most sig nilicantly expressed by licking my hand, first the back of it, then the palm, then every tinger separately, then between all the fingers, as if anxious to leave no part of it unsaluted; a ceremony which he never performed but once again upon a similar occasion. Finding him extremely tractable, I made it my custom to carry him always after breakfast into the garden, where he hid himself generally under the leaves of a cucumber vine, sleeping or chewing the cud till evening; in the leaves also of that vine he found a favorite repast. I had not long habituated him to this taste of liberty, before he began to be impatient for the return of the time when he might enjoy it. He would invite me to the garden by drumming upon my knee, and by a look of such expression as it was not possible to misinterpret. If this rhetoric did not immediately succeed, he would take the skirt of my coat between his teeth, and pull it with all his force.ject to the rot; to prevent which, I always made bread Thus Puss might be said to be perfectly tamed; the shyness of his nature was done away, and on the whole it was visible by many symptoms, which I have not room to enumerate, that he was happier in human society than when shut up with his natural companions.

their principal nourishment, and, filling a pan with it cut into small squares, placed it every evening in their chambers, for they feed only at evening and in the night; during the winter, when vegetables were not to be got, I mingled this mess of bread with shreds of carrot, adding

to it the rind of apples cut extremely thin; for, though they are fond of the paring, the apple itself disgusts them. These however not being a sufficient substitute for the juice of summer herbs, they must at this time be supplied with water; but so placed, that they cannot overset it into their beds. I must not omit, that occasionally they are much pleased with twigs of hawthorn, and of the common brier, eating even the very wood when it is of considerable thickness.

Bess, I have said, died young; Tiney lived to be nine years old, and died at last, I have reason to think, of some hurt in his loins by a fall; Puss is still living, and has just completed his tenth year, discovering no signs of decay, nor even of age, except that he has grown more discreet and less frolicsome than he was. I cannot conclude without observing, that I have lately introduced a dog to his acquaintance, a spaniel that had never seen a hare to a hare that had never seen a spaniel. I did it with great caution, but there was no real need of it. Puss discovered no token of fear, nor Marquis the least symptom of hostility. There is therefore, it should seem, no natural antipathy between dog and hare, but the pursuit of the one occasions the flight of the other, and the dog pursues because he is trained to it; they eat bread at the same time out of the same hand, and are in all respects sociable and friendly.

I should not do complete justice to my subject, did I not add, that they have no ill scent belonging to them, that they are indefatigably nice in keeping themselves clean, for which purpose nature has furnished them with a brush under each foot; and that they are never infested by any vermin.

May 28, 1784.

MEMORANDUM FOUND AMONG MR. COWPER'S PAPERS. Tuesday, March 9, 1786. This day died poor Puss, aged eleven years eleven months. He died between twelve and one at noon. of mere old age, and apparently without pain.

A TALE.*

In Scotland's realms, where trees are few,
Nor even shrubs abound;
But where, however bleak the view,
Some better things are found;

For husband there and wife may boast
Their union undefiled,

And false ones are as rare almost
As hedgerows in the wild-

In Scotland's realm forlorn and bare
The history chanced of late-
The history of a wedded pair,
A chaffinch and his mate.

The spring drew near, each felt a breast
With genial instinct fill'd;

They pair'd, and would have built a nest,
But found not where to build.

The heaths uncover'd and the moors
Except with snow and sleet,
Sea-beaten rocks and naked shores
Could yield them no retreat.

Long time a breeding-place they sought,
Till both grew vex'd and tired;
At length a ship arriving brought
The good so long desired.

* This tale is founded on an article which appeared in the Buckinghamshire Herald, Saturday, June 1, 1793: -"Glasgow, May 23. In a block, or pulley, near the head of the mast of a gabert, now lying at the Broomielaw, there is a chaffinch's nest and four eggs. The nest was built while the vessel lay at Greenock, and was followed hither by both birds. Though the block is occasionally lowered for the inspection of the curious, the birds have not forsaken the nest. The cock, however, visits the nest but seldom, while the hen never leaves it, but when she descends to the hull for food."

A ship!—could such a restless thing
Afford them place of rest?
Or was the merchant charged to bring
The homeless birds a nest?

Hush! silent hearers profit most-
This racer of the sea
Proved kinder to them than the coast,
It served them with a tree.

But such a tree! 'twas shaven deal,
The tree they call a mast,
And had a hollow with a wheel.
Through which the tackle pass'd.

Within that cavity aloft

Their roofless home they fix'd, Form'd with materials neat and soft, Bents, wool, and feathers mix'd.

Four ivory eggs soon pave its floor
With russet specks bedight-
The vessel weighs, forsakes the shore,
And lessens to the sight.

The mother-bird is gone to sea,

As she had changed her kind; But goes the male? Far wiser, he Is doubtless left behind.

No-soon as from ashore he saw
The winged mansion move,
He flew to reach it, by a law
Of never-failing love;

Then, perching at his consort's side,
Was briskly borne along.
The billows and the blast defied,

And cheer'd her with a song.

The seaman with sincere delight His feather'd shipmates eyes, Scarce less exulting in the sight Than when he tows a prize.

For seamen much believe in signs,
And from a chance so new
Each some approaching good divines,
And may his hopes be true!

Hail, honor'd land! a desert where
Not even birds can hide,
Yet parents of this loving pair
Whom nothing could divide.

And ye who, rather than resign
Your matrimonial plan,

Were not afraid to plough the brine
In company with man;

For whose lean country much disdain
We English often show,

Yet from a richer nothing gain

But wantonness and woe

Be it your fortune, year by year
The same resource to prove,
And may ye, sometimes landing here,

Instruct us how to love!

June, 1793.

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Thy spirits have a fainter flow,
I see thee daily weaker grow;
'Twas my distress that brought thee low,
My Mary!

Thy needles, once a shining store,
For my sake restless heretofore,
Now rust disused, and shine no more;
My Mary!
For, though thou gladly wouldst fulfil
The same kind office for me still,
Thy sight now seconds not thy will,

My Mary!
But well thou play'dst the housewife's part,
And all thy threads with magic art
Have wound themselves about this heart,
My Mary!

Thy indistinct expressions seem
Like language uttered in a dream:
Yet me they charm, whate'er the theme,

My Mary!

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Of friends, of hope, of all bereft,
His floating home forever left.

No braver chief could Albion boast
Than he with whom he went,
Nor ever ship left Albion's coast

With warmer wishes sent.

He loved them both, but both in vain, Nor him beheld, nor her again.

Not long beneath the whelming brine, Expert to swim, he lay;

Nor soon he felt his strength decline, Or courage die away;

But waged with death a lasting strife, Supported by despair of life.

He shouted; nor his friends had fail'd To check the vessel's course,

But so the furious blast prevail'd,

That, pitiless perforce,

They left their outcast mate behind, And scudded still before the wind.

Some succor yet they could afford;
And, such as storms allow,

The cask, the coop, the floated cord,
Delay'd not to bestow:

But he, they knew, nor ship nor shore,
Whate'er they gave, should visit more.

Nor, cruel as it seem'd, could he

Their haste himself condemn,
Aware that flight, in such a sea,
Alone could rescue them;

Yet bitter felt it still to die
Deserted, and his friends so nigh.

He long survives, who lives an hour
In ocean, self-upheld:

And so long he, with unspent power,
His destiny repell'd:

And ever, as the minutes flew,
Entreated help, or cried-" Adieu!"

At length, his transient respite past,
His comrades, who before
Had heard his voice in every blast,

Could catch the sound no more:
For then, by toil subdued, he drank
The stifling wave, and then he sank.
No poet wept him; but the page
Of narrative sincere.

That tells his name, his worth, his age,
Is wet with Anson's tear;

And tears by bards or heroes shed
Alike immortalize the dead.

I therefore purpose not, or dream,
Descanting on his fate.

To give the melancholy theme
A more enduring date:
But misery still delights to trace
Its semblance in another's case.

No voice divine the storm allay'd,
No light propitious shone;
When, snatch'd from all effectual aid,
We perish'd, each alone:
But I beneath a rougher sea,
And whelm'd in deeper gulfs than he.
March 20, 1799.

TO SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS.

DEAR President, whose art sublime

Gives perpetuity to time,

And bids transactions of a day,

That fleeting hours would waft away
To dark futurity, survive,

And in unfading beauty live,—
You cannot with a grace decline
A special mandate of the Nine-
Yourself. whatever task you choose,
So much indebted to the Muse.

Thus say the sisterhood:-We come-
Fix well your pallet on your thumb,
Prepare the pencil and the tints—
We come to furnish you with hints.
French disappointment, British glory,
Must be the subject of the story.

First strike a curve, a graceful bow, Then slope it to a point below; Your outline easy, airy, light, Fill'd up, becomes a paper kite. Let independence, sanguine, horrid, Blaze like a meteor in the forehead: Beneath (but lay aside your graces) Draw six-and-twenty rueful faces, Each with a staring sted fast eye, Fix'd on his great and good ally. France flies the kite-'tis on the wingBritannia's lightning cuts the string. The wind that raised it, ere it ceases, Just rends it into thirteen pieces, Takes charge of every fluttering sheet, And lays them all at George's feet. Iberia, trembling from afar, Renounces the confederate war. Her efforts and her arts o'ercome, France calls her shatter'd navies home. Repenting Holland learns to mourn The sacred treaties she has torn; Astonishment and awe profound Are stamp'd upon the nations round: Without one friend, above all foes, Britannia gives the world repose.

THE DISTRESSED TRAVELERS;

OR, LABOR IN VAIN.

A New Song, to a Tune never sung before.

I SING of a journey to Clifton.*

We would have perform'd. if we could; Without cart or barrow to lift on

Poor Mary and me through the mud.
Slee, sla slud,

Stuck in the mud;
Oh it is pretty to wade through a flood!

So away we went, slipping and sliding;
Hop hop, à la mode de deux frogs,
'Tis near as good walking as riding.
When ladies are dress'd in their clogs.
Wheels, no doubt,

Go briskly about,

But they clatter, and rattle, and make such a rout.

* A village near Olney.

+ Mrs. Unwin.

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"I have examined it, every nook,

And what you see here is a sample of all.
Come, wheel round,

The dirt we have found

Would be an estate, at a farthing a pound."

Now, sister Anne, the guitar you must take,
Set it, and sing it, and make it a song:

I have varied the verse, for variety's sake,
And cut it off short-because it was long.
"Tis hobbling and lame,

Which critics won't blame, For the sense and the sound, they say, should be the same.

*The late Lady Austen.

ON THE AUTHOR OF LETTERS ON LITERATURE.*

THE Genius of the Augustan age
His head among Rome's ruins rear'd,
And, bursting with heroic rage,
When literary Heron appear'd;

Thou hast, he cried. like him of old Who set the Ephesian dome on fire, By being scandalously bold, Attain'd the mark of thy desire.

And for traducing Virgil's name
Shalt share his merited reward;
A perpetuity of fame,

That rots, and stinks, and is abhorr'd.

STANZAS

ON THE LATE INDECENT LIBERTIES TAKEN WITH THE REMAINS OF MILTON.† ANNO 1790.

"ME too, perchance, in future days,

The sculptured stone shall show, With Paphian myrtle or with bays Parnassian on my brow.

"But I, or ere that season come,
Escaped from every care,
Shall reach my refuge in the tomb,
And sleep securely there."+

So sang in Roman tone and style,
The youthful bard, ere long
Ordain'd to grace his native isle

With her sublimest song.

Who then but must conceive disdain,
Hearing the deed unblest

Of wretches who have dared profane
His dread sepulchral rest?

Ill fare the hands that heaved the stones (
Where Milton's ashes lay,

That trembled not to grasp his bones
And steal his dust away!

O ill requited bard! neglect Thy living worth repaid, And blind idolatrous respect As much affronts thee dead. August, 1790.

Nominally by Robert Heron, Esq., but supposed to have been written by John Pinkerton. 8vo. 1785.

↑ The bones of Milton, who lies buried in Cripplegate church, were disinterred; a pamphlet by Le Neve was published at the time, giving an account of what appeared on opening his coffin.

Forsitan et nostros ducat de marmore vultus,
Nectens aut Paphia myrti aut Parnasside lauri
Fronde comas-At ego secura pace quiescam.
Milton in Manso.

Cowper, no doubt, had in his memory the lines said to have been written by Shakspeare on his tomb:

"Good friend, for Jesus' sake forbear

To dig the dust inclosed here.

Blest be the man that spares these stones,
And curst be he that moves my bones."

TO THE REV. WILLIAM BULL.
June 22, 1782.

MY DEAR FRIEND,

IF reading verse be your delight,
"Tis mine as much, or more, to write;
But what we would, so weak is man,
Lies oft remote from what we can.
For instance, at this very time
I feel a wish by cheerful rhyme

To soothe my friend, and, had I power,
To cheat him of an anxious hour;
Not meaning (for I must confess,
It were but folly to suppress)
His pleasure, or his good alone,
But squinting partly at my own.
But though the sun is flaming high
In the centre of yon arch, the sky,
And he had once (and who but he ?)
The name for setting genius free,
Yet whether poets of past days
Yielded him undeserved praise,
And he by no uncommon lot
Was famed for virtues he had not;
Or whether, which is like enough,
His Highness may have taken huff,
So seldom sought with invocation,
Since it has been the reigning fashion
To disregard his inspiration,

I seem no brighter in my wits,
For all the radiance he emits,
Than if I saw, through midnight vapor,
The glimmering of a farthing taper.
Oh for a succedaneum, then,
To accelerate a creeping pen!
Oh for a ready succedaneum,
Quod caput, cerebrum, et cranium
Pondere liberet exoso,

Et morbo jam caliginoso!
'Tis here; this oval box well fill'd
With best tobacco, finely mill'd,
Beats all Anticyra's pretences

To disengage the encumber'd senses
Oh Nymph of transatlantic fame,
Where'er thine haunt, whate'er thy name,
Whether reposing on the side

Of Oroonoquo's spacious tide,

Or listening with delight not small

To Niagara's distant fall,

"Tis thine to cherish and to feed
The pungent nose-refreshing weed
Which, whether pulverized it gain
A speedy passage to the brain,
Or whether, touch'd with fire, it rise
In circling eddies to the skies,
Does thought more quicken and refine
Than all the breath of all the Nine-
Forgive the bard, if bard he be,
Who once too wantonly made free,
To touch with a satiric wipe
That symbol of thy power the pipe;
So may no blight infest thy plains,
And no unseasonable rains;

And so may smiling peace once more
Visit America's sad shore;

And thou, secure from all alarms,

Of thundering drums and glittering arms, Rove unconfined beneath the shade

Thy wide expanded leaves have made; thy votaries increase,

So

may And fumigation never cease.

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