Pagina-afbeeldingen
PDF
ePub

Sad Philomel thus-but let similies drop-
And now that I think on't, the story may stop.
To be plain, my good lord, it's but labour misplac'd,
To send such good verses to one of your taste;
You've got an odd something—a kind of discerning,
A relish a taste-sicken'd over by learning;

At least, it's your temper, as very well known, That you think very slightly of all that's your own: So, perhaps, in your habits of thinking amiss,

You may make a mistake, and think slightly of this.

FROM

THE ORATORIO

OF

THE CAPTIVITY.

SONG.

THE wretch condemn'd with life to part,

Still, still on hope relies;

And ev'ry pang that rends the heart,

Bids expectation rise.

Hope, like the glimm'ring taper's light,

Adorns and cheers the way;

And still, as darker grows the night,
Emits a brighter ray.

[blocks in formation]

SONG.

O MEMORY! thou fond deceiver,
Still importunate and vain,
To former joys recurring ever,

And turning all the past to pain;

Thou, like the world, the opprest oppressing,
Thy smiles increase the wretch's woe;
And he who wants each other blessing,
In thee must ever find a foe.

THE

CLOWN'S REPLY.

JOHN TROTT was desir'd by two witty peers, To tell them the reason why asses had ears; "An't please you," quoth John, "I'm not given to "letters,

"Nor dare I pretend to know more than my betters: Howe'er from this time I shall ne'er see your graces, As I hope to be sav'd! without thinking on asses."

Edinburgh, 1753.

EPITAPH

ON

EDWARD PURDON.*

HERE lies poor NED PURDON, from misery freed,
Who long was a bookseller's hack :

He led such a damnable life in this world,-
I don't think he 'll wish to come back.

* This gentleman was educated at Trinity College, Dublin; but having wasted his patrimony, he enlisted as a foot soldier. Growing tired of that employment, he obtained his discharge, and became a scribbler in the newspapers. He translated Voltaire's HENRIADE.

« VorigeDoorgaan »