EPITAPH ON MR. CHESTER, OF CHICHELEY. [lies, TEARS flow, and cease not, where the good man weep And justly-few shall ever him transcend TO MY COUSIN, ANNE BODHAM, ON RECEIVING FROM HER A NETWORK PURSE, MADE BY My gentle Anne, whom heretofore, I danced and fondled on my knee, A kitten both in size and glee, I thank thee for my purse. Gold pays the worth of all things here; INSCRIPTION FOR A HERMITAGE IN THE THIS cabin, Mary, in my sight appears, May, 1793. TO MRS. UNWIN. MARY! I want a lyre with other strings, drew, An eloquence scarce given to mortals, new That, ere through age or woe I shed my wings, I may record thy worth with honour due, In verse as musical as thou art true, And that immortalizes whom it sings. There all thy deeds, my faithful Mary, shine, And, since thou own'st that praise, I spare thee mine. May, 1793. TO JOHN JOHNSON, ON HIS PRESENTING ME WITH AN ANTIQUE BUST OF HOMER. KINSMAN beloved, and as a son, by me! When I behold this fruit of thy regard, [be The sculptured form of my old favourite bard, I reverence feel for him, and love for thee. Joy too and grief. Much joy that there should Wise men and learn'd, who grudge not to reward With some applause my bold attempt and hard, Which others scorn; critics by courtesy. The grief is this, that, sunk in Homer's mine, I lose my precious years, now soon to fail Handling his gold, which, howsoe'er it shine, Proves dross when balanced in the Christian scale. Be wiser thou-like our forefather Donne, TO A YOUNG FRIEND, ON HIS ARRIVING AT CAMBRIDGE WET WHEN NO RAIN HAD FALLEN THERE. IF Gideon's fleece, which drench'd with dew he found While moisture none refresh'd the herbs around, Might fitly represent the church endow'd With heavenly gifts to heathens not allow'd; In pledge, perhaps, of favours from on high, A TALE.* IN Scotland's realms, where trees are few, But where, however bleak the view, Some better things are found, For husband there and wife Their union undefiled, may boast And false ones are as rare almost In Scotland's realm forlorn and bare This history of a wedded pair, A chaffinch and his mate. *This tale is founded on an article which appeared in the Buckinghamshire Herald, for Saturday, June 1, 1793: Glasgow, May 23. In a block, or pulley, near the head of the mast of a gabert, now lying at the Broomielaw, there is a chaffinch's nest and four eggs. The nest was built while the vessel lay at Greenock, and was followed hither by both birds. Though the block is occasionally lowered for the inspection of the curious, the birds have not forsaken the nest. The cock, however, visits the nest but seldom, while the hen never leaves it, but when she descends to the hull for food." The spring drew near, each felt a breast With genial instinct fill'd; They pair'd, and would have built a nest, The heaths uncover'd and the moors Long time a breeding-place they sought, At length a ship arriving brought A ship? could such a restless thing Or was the merchant charged to bring Hush-silent hearers profit most— Proved kinder to them than the coast, But such a tree! 'twas shaven deal, And had a hollow with a wheel Through which the tackle pass'd. Within that cavity aloft Their roofless home they fix'd, Form'd with materials neat and soft, Bents, wool, and feathers mix'd. |