For still she lives, but has exchang'd the hoarse Where, idol of all Rome, she now in chains, Of magic song, both gods, and men detains. THE COTTAGER AND HIS LANDLORD. A FABLE. A PEASANT to his lord pay'd yearly court, That he, displeas'd to have a part alone, MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. ON THE DEATH OF THE VICE-CHANCELLOR, A PHYSICIAN. LEARN, ye nations of the earth, Now be taught your feeble state! If the mournful rover, Death, Say but once-" resign your breath!" You must pass the Stygian stream. Could the stoutest overcome Death's assault, and baffle doom, Hercules had both withstood, Undiseas'd by Nessus' blood. Ne'er had Hector press'd the plain By Achilles' phantom died. Could enchantments life prolong, Circe, sav'd by magic song, Dwelt in herbs, and drugs, a pow'r To avert man's destin'd hour, Learn'd Machaon should have known Doubtless to avert his own. Chiron had surviv'd the smart Of the hydra-tainted dart, And Jove's bolt had been, with ease, Foil'd by Asclepiades. Thou too, sage! of whom forlorn Helicon and Cirrha mourn, Still had'st fill'd thy princely place, Regent of the gowned race. ON THE DEATH OF THE BISHOP OF ELY. Written in the Author's 17th Year, My lids with grief were tumid yet, And still my sullied cheek was wet For venerable Winton dead'; When Fame, whose tales of saddest sound Alas! are ever truest found, The news through all our cities spread Of yet another mitred head By ruthless fate to death consign'd, At once, a storm of passion heav'd But lo! while thus I execrate, Incens'd, the minister of fate, Wond'rous accents, soft, yet clear, Wafted on the gale I hear. |