Health, whose bright glow on roseate vigour bloom'd; Still be firm faith and meek submission mine, To bear the lot of man at life's decline. So shall I not when Nature claims her debt, Mourn o'er past youth with vain and weak regret ; Like a fleet shadow passing o'er the earth. GRUDGE leaves the poor his whole possessions nearly:He means his next of kin should weep sincerely. IMITATION OF MARTIAL. FRIBBLE, while you with pride advance A score of curls in fluttering state From twenty advertising shops, Creams, pastes, pomades, and drugs, would pose The veriest perfumer's nose. My sole cosmetic soap, I ween, I ply the pump, and think I'm clean: Your languishing falsetto note Scarce steals in whispers from your throat; My boisterous voice from leathern lungs, Outbawls a dozen fishmen's tongues. But if we must alliance claim, N. B. HALHED, ESQ. İMITATION OF MARTIAL. DEAR Sam, who the camp and the pulpit have tried, You ask me what system of life I should choose: To manage my own little farm is my pride, And to lounge where I like in my dirty old shoes. In a patron's chill vestibule why should I freeze, Why dance up and down at the doors of the great; When to warm my own hearth I can clip my own trees, And pursue my own game on my own small estate? Who would angle for meals that can catch his own fish? As the honey unbought what desert half so sweet ? Give me eggs of my own, in a clean wooden dish, And my hind's lusty daughter to cook up the treat. While for health I can plough, and for exercise dig, May the wretch who dislikes me, my system forbear; May he veil his grey locks in an alderman's wig, Grow gouty while Sheriff, and die when Lord Mayor! VOL. VIII. Ee N. B. HALHED, ESQ. SONNET ON THE AUTHOR'S BIRTH-DAY. Now from the orient o'er the laughing earth Who, when they turn their actions to survey, With every added year see added worth. Mẹ, as my noon of manhood hastens on, Fierce and more fierce, the heats of passion burn; In vain with many a fleeting cloud o'ercast; For soon the transitory gloom is gone, And soon, forth-breaking bright, those heats return, Till the cool eve of westering age to last. SONNET To MRS. H. ON THE BIRTH OF A SON. FIERCE are the pangs that rend the tortured frame, May never siren Vice's flattering strain, * ++ * A daughter of Mrs. H. since married to an Officer, now in the East-Indies. |