Where the watchman in his round So your Verse-man I, and Clerk, And the foe's unerring aim. Duly at my time I come, Publishing to all aloud Soon the grave must be your home, But the monitory strain, Oft repeated in your ears, Can a truth, by all confess'd, Of such magnitude and weight, Pleasure's call attention wins, Death and Judgment, Heav'n and Hell- No more move us than the bell, When some stranger is interr❜d. Oh then, ere the turf or tomb Cover us from every eye, Spirit of instruction, come, Make us learn that we must die! TO JOHN JOHNSON, ON HIS PRESENTING ME WITH AN ANTIQUE BUST OF HOMER. KINSMAN beloved, and as a son by me! Joy too, and grief, much joy that there should be Wise men, and learn'd, who grudge not to reward With some applause my bold attempt, and hard, Which others scorn. Critics by courtesy ! The grief is this, that sunk in Homer's mine, Proves dross when balanc'd in the Christian scale. Be wiser thou, like our forefather DONNE ; TO THE REV. MR. NEWTON, ON HIS RETURN FROM RAMSGATE. THAT ocean you of late survey'd, You, from the flood-controlling steep, To me the waves that ceaseless broke Your sea of troubles you have past, I, tempest toss'd, and wreck'd at last, LOVE ABUSED. WHAT is there in the vale of life, combine When friendship, love, and peace And earth a second Eden shows, Complaints supply the zephyr's part, EPITAPH ON MR. CHESTER, OF CHICHELEY. TEARS flow and cease not, where the good man lies, Till all who knew him follow to the skies. Tears therefore fall where Chester's ashes sleep, weep And justly-few shall ever him transcend $ 2 EPITAPH. ON MRS. M. HIGGINS, OF WESTON. LAURELS may flourish round the conqueror's tomb, But happiest they, who win the world to come : And their exploits are veil'd from human sight. TO COUNT GRAVINA, On his translating the Author's Song on a Rose into Italian Verse. MY Rose, Gravina, blooms anew, And steep'd not now in rain, INSCRIPTION For a Stone erected at the sowing of a Grove of OTHER stones the era tell |