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Thou wast not heard with drowsy disregard,
Expending late on all that length of plea
Thy gen'rous pow'rs, but silence honour'd thee
Mute as e'er gaz'd on Orator or Bard.
Thou art not voice alone, but hast beside

Both heart and head; and could'st with music sweet

Of attic phrase and senatorial tone,
Like thy renown'd Forefathers, far and wide

Thy fame diffuse, prais'd not for utt'rance meet.
Of others' speech, but magic of thy own.

IDEM LATINE REDDITUM.

POPULEÆ cecidit gratissima copia silvæ,
Conticuêre susurri, omnisque evanuit umbra.
Nullæ jam levibus se miscent frondibus auræ
Et nulla in fluvio ramorum ludit imago.
Hei mihi ! bis senos dum luctû torqueor annos
His cogor silvis suetoque carere recessû,
Cum serò rediens stratasque in gramine cernens
Insedi arboribus sub queîs errare solebam.
Ah ubi nunc merulæ cantus ? Felicior illum
Silva tegit, duræ nondum permissa bipenni ;
Scilicet exustos colles camposque patentes
Odit, et indignans et non rediturus abivit.
Sed qui succisas doleo succidar et ipse,
Et priùs huic parilis quàm creverit altera silva
Flebor, et, exequiis parvis donatus, habebo
Defixum lapidem tumulique cubantis acervum.

Tam subitò periisse videns tam digna manere
Agnosco humanas sortes et tristia fata-
Sit licàt ipse brevis, volucrique simillimus umbræ,
Est homini brevior citiùsque obitura voluptas.

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LINES ON FRIENDSHIP.
IF every polish'd gem we find
Illuminating heart or mind,

Provoke to imitation,
No wonder friendship does the same,
That jewel of the purest flame,

Or rather constellation.

An acquisition rather rare,
Is yet no subject of despair ;

Nor is it wise complaining,
If either on forbidden ground,
Or where it was not to be found,

We sought without attaining,

No friendship will abide the test
That stands on sordid interest,

Or mean self-love erected ;
Nor such as may awhile subsist
Between the sot and sensualist,

For vicious ends connected.
A man renown'd for repartee
Will seldom scruple to make free

With friendship's finest feeling ;

Will thrust a dagger at your breast, And say he wounded you in jest,

By way of balm for healing.

A friendship that, in frequent fits
Of controversial rage, emits

The sparks of disputation;
Like hand-in-hand insurance plates,
Most unavoidably creates

The thought of conflagration.

The great and small but rarely meet On terms of amity complete,

Plebeians must surrender

It is combining fire with smoke,

Obscurity with splendour.

As similarity of mind
Or something not to be defin'd,

First fixes our attention ;
So manners decent and polite,
The same we practis'd at first sight,

Must save it from declension.

Some act upon this prudent plan,
“ Say little, and hear all you can,”

Safe policy, but hateful
So barren sands imbibe the show'r,
But render neither fruit nor flow'r,

Unpleasant and ungrateful

Pursue the search, and you will find
Good sense and knowledge of mankind

To be at least expedient,
And after summing all the rest,
Religion ruling in the breast

A principal ingredient.
The noblest friendship ever shown,
The Saviour's history makes known,

Though some have turn'd and turn'd it,
And whether being craz’d or blind, .
Or seeking with a bias'd mind,

Have not, it seems, discern'd it.

EPITAPH ON A HARE.

HERE lies, whom hound did ne'er pursue,

Nor swifter greyhound follow, Whose foot ne'er tainted morning dew,

Nor e'er heard huntsman's hallo'.
Old Tiney, surliest of his kind,

Who, nurs'd with tender care,
And to domestic bounds confin'd,
, Was still a wild Jack-hare.
Though duly from my hand he took

His pittance ev'ry night,
He did it with a jealous look,

And when he could would bite.

His diet was of wheaten bread

And milk, and oats, and straw ; Thistles, or lettuces instead,

With sand to scour his maw.

On twigs of hawthorn he regal'd,

On pippins' russet peel,
And, when his juicy salads fail'd,

Slic'd carrot pleas'd him well.

A Turkey carpet was his lawn,

Whereon he lov'd to bound, To skip and gambol like a fawin,

And swing his rump around.

His frisking was at evening hours,

For then he lost his fear,
But most before approaching show'rs,

Or when a storm drew near.
Eight years and five round-rolling moons

He thus saw steal away,
Dozing out all his idle noons,

And ev'ry night at play.
I kept him for his humour' sake,

For he would oft beguile
My heart of thoughts that made it ache,

And force me to a smile.

But now, beneath this walnut shade

He finds his long, last home, VOL. 11.

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