On fome fond breaft the parting foul relies,
Some pious drops the closing eye requires :
Ev'n from the tomb the voice of nature cries,
Ev'n in our afhes live their wonted fires.

For thee, who, mindful of th' unhonor'd head,
Doft in thefe lines their artlefs tale relate;
If, chance, by lonely contemplation led,
Some kindred spirit fhall inquire thy fate;

Happy fome hoary-headed fwain may fay,

Oft' have we feen him, at the peep of dawn,
Brushing with hafty fteps, the dews away,
To meet the fun upon the upland lawn.

There, at the foot of yonder nodding beech,
That writhes its old fantaftic roots fo high,
His liftless length at noon-tide would he stretch,
And pore upon the brook that babbles by.

Hard by yon wood, now fmiling, as in fcorn,
Mutt'ring his wayward fancies, he would rove;
Now drooping, woeful wan, like one forlorn,
"Or craz'd with care, or crofs'd in hopeless love*.
One

Shook from his tender trance, and reftlefs runs To glimmering fhades, and fympathetic glooms; . there thro' the penfive dufk

Strays, in heart-thrilling meditation loft,

Indulging all to love.

THOMSON'S SEASONS.

One morn I mifs'd him on the custom'd hill,
6 Along the heath, and near his fav'rite tree:
Another came; nor yet befide the rill,

Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he.

The next, with dirges due, in fad

array,

Slow thro' the church-yard path we faw him borne. Approach and read (for thou canft) the lay, Grav'd on the ftone beneath yon aged thorn,'

THE

THE EPITAPH.

HERE refts his head

upon the lap

of earth,
A youth to Fortune and to Fame unknown;

Fair Science frown'd not on his humble birth,
And Melancholy mark'd him for her own.

Large was his bounty, and his foul fincere,
Heav'n did a recompence as largely send :
He gave to mis'ry all he had, a tear;

He gain'd from Heav'n ('twas all he wish'd) a friend*.

No farther feek his merits to disclose,

Or draw his frailties from their dread abode; There they alike in trembling hope repose,

The bofom of his Father and his God.

*Poor is the friendlefs mafter of a world; A world in purchafe for a friend is gain.

DR. YOUNG.

EDWIN and ANGELINA.

Forbear my Son the Hermit cries.
To tempt the dangerous gloom.
For yonder phantom only flies.
Tolure thee to thy doom.

Barlow Sculp