Pagina-afbeeldingen
PDF
ePub

V E R S E S,

WRITTEN AT THE REQUEST OF A GENTLEMAN TO WHOM A LADY HAD GIVEN A

SPRIG OF MYRTLE*.

W"

а

HA T hopes, what terrors, does this gift create ?

Ambiguous emblem of uncertain fate.
The myrtle (enfign of supreme command,
Consign'd to Venus by Melissa's hand)
Not less capricious than a reigning fair,
Oft favours, oft rejects, a lover's pray’r.
In myrtle shades oft fings the happy swaiit,
In myrtle shades despairing ghosts complain.
The myrtle crowns the happy lovers heads,
Th’unhappy lovers graves the mrytle spreads.
Oh! then, the meaning of thy gift impart,
And ease the throbbings of an anxious heart.
Soon must this sprig, as you shall fix its doom,
Adorn Philander's head, or grace his'tomb.

* These verses were firft priated in a Magazine for 1768, but were written between forty and fifty years ago. Elegant as they are, they were composed in the short space of five minutes.

To

To Lady FIRE BRACE*,

At BURY ASSIZES.

A

T length must Suffolk beauties shine in vain,

So long renown'd in B-n's deathless strain ? Thy charms at least, fair Firebrace, might inspire Some zealous bard to wake the sleeping lyre ; For, such thy beauteous mind and lovely face, Thou seem'st at once, bright nymph, a Muse and

Grace.

To LYCE, an elderly Lady.

E nymphs whom starry rays invest,

By flattering poets given, Who shine, by lavish lovers drest, In all the

pomp

of Heaven;

Engross not all the beams on high,

Which gild a lover's lays, But, as your sister of the sky,

Let Lyce share the praise.

* This lady was Bridget, third daughter of Philip Bacon, Esq. of Ipswich, and relict of Philip Evers, Esq. of that town. She became the second wife of Sir Cordell Firebrace, the last Baronet of that name (to whom she brought a fortune of 25,000l.), July 26, 1737. Being again left a widow in 1759, she was a third time married, April 7, 1762, to William Campbell, Esq. uncle to the present Duke of Argyle; and died July 3, 1782.

Her

[ocr errors]

Her filver locks display the moon,
; Her brows a cloudy show,
Strip'd rainbows round her eyes are seen,

And showers from either flow.
Her teeth the night with darkness dyes,

She's starr'd with pimples o’er ;
Her tongue like nimble lightning plies,

And can with thunder roar.
But some Zelinda, while I fing,

Denies my Lyce shines;
And all the pens of Cupid's wing

Attack my gentle lines.
Yet spite of fair Zelinda's eye,

And all her bards express,
My Lyce makes as good a sky,

And I but fatter less.

ON THE DEATH OF

Mr. ROBERT LE V E T,

A Practiser in Phyfic.

CA

YONDEMN'D to Hope's delusive mine,

As on we toil from day to day,
By sudden blafts, or slow decline,

Our social comforts drop away.
Well try'd through many a varying year,

See Levet to the grave defcend,
Officious, innocent, fincere,

Of every friendless name the friend.

Yet still he fills Affection's eye,

Obscurely wise, and coarsely kind; Nor, letter'd Arrogance, deny

Thy praise to.merit unrefin'd. When fainting nature call’d for aid,

And hovering death prepar'd the blow, His vig'rous remedy display'd

The pow'r of art without the show.
In misery's darkest cavern known,

His useful care was ever nigh,
Where hopeless anguish pour’d his groan,

And lonely want retir'd to die.
No summons mock'd by chill delay,

No petty gain disdain’d by pride,
The modest wants of every day

The toil of every day supply'd.
His virtues walk'd their narrow round,

Nor made a pause, nor left a void;
And sure th' Eternal Master found

The single talent well employ’d.
The busy day-the peaceful night,

Unfelt, uncounted, glided by;
His frame was firin-his powers were bright,

Tho' now his eightieth year was nigh.
Then with no fiery throbbing pain,

No cold gradations of decay, Death broke at once the vital chain,

And freed his soul the nearest way.

[blocks in formation]

EPITAPH on CLAUDE PHILLIPS,

AN ITINERANT MUSICIAN*

PHT
HILLIPS! whose touch harmonious could remove

The pangs of guilty pow'r, and hapless love,
Reft here, distreft by poverty no more,
Find here that calm thou gav'st so oft before ;
Sleep undisturbid within this peaceful shrine,
Till angels waķe thee with a note like thine,

E P I T A P H I UM

IN

THOMAM HAN MER, BARONETTUM,

Honorabilis admodum Thomas HANMER,

Baronettus, Wilhelmi Hanmer armigeri è Peregrina Henrici

North De Mildenhal in Com. Suffolciæ Baronnetti forore

et hærede.

Filius
Johannis Hanmer de Hanmer Baronetti

* These lines are among Mrs. Williams's Miscellanies: they are nevertheless recognized as Johnson's in a memorandum of his hand-writing, and were probably written at her request. Phillips was a travelling fidler up and down Wales, and was greatly celebrated for his performance,

Hæres

« VorigeDoorgaan »