Epitaph on Miss Drummond, in the Church of | A kindling passion ev'ry breast alarms, Brodsworth, Yorkshire. MASON. Each tongue proclaims the triumph of her charms. grace; HERE sleeps what once was beauty, once was Sunk in her father's fond embrace, and died. He weeps; O venerate the holy tear ! Faith lends her aid to ease affliction's load; The parent mourns his child upon the bier, The Christian yields an angel to his God. Lo! where this silent marble weeps, A friend, a wife, a mother, sleeps; A heart, within whose sacred cell The peaceful virtues lov'd to dwell. Affection warm, and faith sincere, And soft humanity, were there. In agony, in death resign'd, She felt the wound she left behind. Her infant image, here below, Sits smiling on a father's woe: Whom what awaits, while yet he strays Along the lonely vale of days? A pang to secret sorrow dear; A sigh, an unavailing tear, Till time shall ev'ry grief remove, With life, with mem'ry, and with love. But when, retir'd amidst their rural bow'rs, She cheers th' illustrious patriot's calmer hours; Or, smiling, sits her infant tribe among, And guides to virtue's paths the list ning throng: Behold, amidst these pleasing cares of life, The tender mother, and th' engaging wife! More just applause these humbler virtues share, And Portia shines, as good as she is fair. An Incident in High Life. THE Bucks had din'd, and deep in council sat; Their wine was brilliant-but their wit grew flat: Up starts his Lordship, to the window flies, And lo! "A race! a race!" in rapture cries. "Where?" quoth Sir John. "Why, see! two drops of rain Start from the summit of the crystal pane: Performs its current down the slippery course!" But ah! the glittering joys of life are short!How oft two jostling steeds have spoil'd the sport! Lo! thus attraction, by coercive laws, On a Dispute between Dr. Radcliffe and Sir | Nash represents man in the mass, Godfrey Kneller. THE old Egyptians hid their wit His knowledge gives mankind delight, Made up of wrong and right; Sometimes a king, sometimes an ass, Now blunt, and now polite. The picture placed the busts between, grew, And tapping was now the last thing he could do. He began to consider-so sent for his son. Affairs at this crisis, and doctors come down, Tom, see by what courses I've shorten'd my life, I'm leaving the world ere I'm forty and five; More than probable 'tis, that in twenty-four hours This manor, this house, and estate, will be yours; My early excesses may teach you this truth, That 'tis working for death to drink hard in one's youth. Says Tom (who's a lad of a generous spirit, And not like young rakes, who're in haste to inherit) Sir, don't be dishearten'd; although it be true, Th' operation is painful, and hazardous too, 'Tis no more than what many a man has gone through. And then, as for years, you may yet be call'd EPIGRAMS from MARTIAL. To James Harris, Esq. MARTIAL, Book iv. Ep. 87. WOULDST thou, by Attic taste improv'd, By all be read, by all be lov'd, To learned Harris' curious eye, CURMUDGEON the rich widow courts; WHEN Arria from her wounded side Book iii. Ep. 43. BEFORE a swan, behind a crow, Such self-deceit ne'er did I know. fly; What madness this-for fear of death to die! VARUS did lately me to supper call; Ah! cease your arts-Death knows you're grey, We came to feast our bellies, not our eyes; And spite of all will keep his day. Pray take away your gold; give us some pies. Book i. Ep. 16. THOU, whom (if faith or honor recommends hum: From Martial, literally translated. YES; I submit, my lord, you've gain'd your * Merum is not translated at all. An Epitaph to the Memory of Lucy Lyttelton. MADE to engage all hearts, and charm all eyes; Tho' meek, magnanimous; tho' witty, wise; Polite as all her life in courts had been, Yet good as she the world had never seen; The noble fire of an exalted mind, With gentle female tenderness combin'd; Her speech was the melodious voice of love; Her song the warbling of the vernal grove; Her eloquence was sweeter than her song, Soft as her heart, and as her reason strong; Her form each beauty of her mind express'd; Her mind was virtue by the graces dress'd. Epitaph on Miss Stanley. THOMSON. HERE, Stanley! rest, escap'd this mortal strife, Above the joys, beyond the woes of life. cere: Ours be the lenient, not unpleasing tear! O! born to bloom, then sink beneath the storm, To show us Virtue in her fairest form; Yes, we must follow soon, will glad obey, When a few suns have roll'd their cares away; Tir'd with vain life, will close the willing eye; 'Tis the great birthright of mankind to die. Blest be the bark that wafts us to the shore Where death-divided friends shall part no |