VERSES TO THE MEMORY OF DR. LLOYD,* SPOKEN AT THE WESTMINSTER ELECTION NEXT AFTER HIS DECEASE. ABIIT senex! periit senex amabilis ! Florentiori vos juventute excolens Seu quando fractus, jamque donatus rude, Miscere gaudebat suas facetias Vixit probus, purâque simplex indole, Et dives æquâ mente-charus omnibus, * I make no apology for the introduction of the following lines, though I have never learned who wrote them. Their elegance will sufficiently recommend them to persons of classical taste and erudition, and I shall be happy if the English version that they have received from me be found not to dishonour them. Affection for the memory of the worthy man whom they celebrate alone prompted me to this endeavour. W. CowPER. + He was usher and under master of Westminster near fifty years, and retired from his occupation when he was near seventy, with a handsome pension from the king. Ite tituli! meritis beatioribus Nec invidebat ille, si quibus favens Decus sit inditum, nec mortuo THE SAME IN ENGLISH. OUR good old friend is gone, gone to his rest, Whose social converse was, itself, a feast. ye of riper age, who recollect How once ye loved, and eyed him with respect, While yet he ruled you with a father's sway, And richer than the rich in being so, Obtain'd the hearts of all, and such a meed * See the note in the Latin copy. Hence, then, ye titles, hence, not wanted here, The brows of those whose more exalted lot Light lie the turf, good senior! on thy breast, And tranquil as thy mind was be thy rest! Though, living, thou hadst more desert than fame, And not a stone now chronicles thy name. TO MRS. THROCKMORTON, ON HER BEAUTIFUL TRANSCRIPT OF HORACE'S ODE, MARIA, Could Horace have guess'd He had laugh'd at the critical sneer Which he seems to have trembled to meet. And sneer, if you please, he had said, A nymph shall hereafter arise Who shall give me, when you are all dead, Shall dignity give to my lay, Although but a mere bagatelle; And even a poet shall say, Nothing ever was written so well. Feb. 1790. TO THE IMMORTAL MEMORY OF THE HALIBUT, ON WHICH I DINED THIS DAY, MONDAY, APRIL 26, 1784. WHERE hast thou floated, in what seas pursued Wherever thou hast fed, thou little thought'st, And I not more, that I should feed on thee. Peace, therefore, and good health, and much good fish, To him who sent thee! and success, as oft As it descends into the billowy gulf, To the same drag that caught thee!-Fare thee well! Thy lot thy brethren of the slimy fin Would envy, could they know that thou wast doom'd To feed a bard, and to be praised in verse. INSCRIPTION FOR A STONE ERECTED AT THE SOWING OF A GROVE OF OAKS AT CHILLINGTON, THE SEAT OF T. GIFFARD, ESQ. 1790. OTHER stones the era tell Of these hardy sons of earth. Which shall longest brave the sky, Pass an age or two away, I must moulder and decay, But the years that crumble me Cherish honour, virtue, truth, Stone at heart, and cannot grow. June, 1790. |