SONG.

AMIDST a rosy bank of flowers,
Young Damon mourn'd his forlorn fate;
In sighs he spent his languid hours,
And breath'd his woes in lonely state.

Gay joy no more shall cheer his mind,
No wanton sports can soothe his care,
Since sweet Amanda prov'd unkind,
And left him full of black despair.

His looks that were as fresh as morn
Can now no longer smiles impart;
His pensive soul, on sadness born,
Is rack'd and torn by Cupid's dart.

Turn, fair Amanda! cheer your swain, Unshroud him from his veil of woe; Range every charm to ease the pain That in his tortur'd breast doth grow.

N

EPITAPH

ON GENERAL WOLFE.

IN worth exceeding, and in virtue great,
Words would want force his actions to relate.
Silence, ye bards! eulogiums vain forbear,
It is enough to say that WOLFE lies here.

EPIGRAM

On the numerous EPITAPHS for General WOLFE; for the best of which a Premium of One Hundred Pounds was promised.

THE Muse, a shameless mercenary jade! Has now assum'd the arch-tongu'd lawyer's trade:

In WOLFE's deserving praises silent she,
Till flatter'd with the prospect of a fee.

EXTEMPORE,

On seeing STANZAS addressed to Mrs. HARTLEY, Comedian, wherein she is described as resembling MARY, Queen of SCOTS.

HARTLEY resembles Scotland's Queen,
Some bard enraptur'd cries;
A flattering bard he is, I ween,
Or else the PAINTER LIES.

ON SEEING A LADY PAINT HERSELF.

WHEN, by some misadventure cross'd,
The banker hath his fortune lost,
Credit his instant need supplies,
And for a moment blinds our eyes:
So Delia, when her beauty's flown,
Trades on a bottom not her own,
And labours to escape detection,
By putting on a false complexion.

ON BEING ASKED WHICH OF THREE SISTERS WAS

THE MOST BEAUTIFUL.

WHEN Paris gave his voice, in Ida's grove, For the resistless Venus, queen of love, "Twas no great task to pass a judgment there, Where she alone was exquisitely fair; But here what could his ablest judgment teach, When wisdom, power, and beauty reign in each;

The youth, nonplus'd, behov'd to join with me, And wish the apple had been cut in three.

ON THE DEATH

OF MR. THOS. LANCASHIRE, Comedian.

ALAS, poor Tom! how oft, with merry heart, Have we beheld thee play the Sexton's part! Each comic heart must now be griev'd to see The Sexton's dreary part perform'd on thee.

EPIGRAM,

On seeing Scales used in a MASÓN LODGE.

WHY should the brethren met in Lodge
Adopt such aukward measures,
To set their scales and weights to judge
The value of their treasures?

The law laid down from age to age,
How can they well o'ercome it?
For it forbids them to engage
With aught but Line and Plummet.

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