INSCRIPTION

FOR

THE TOMB

OF

Mr. HAMILTON.

PAUSE here, and think: a monitory rhime
Demands one moment of thy eeting time.

Confult life's filent clock, thy bounding vein;
Seems it to fay-“ Health here has long to reign ?
Haft thou the vigour of thy youth? an eye
That beams delight? an heart untaught to figh?
Yet fear. Youth, oftimes healthful and at ease,
Anticipates a day it never fees;

And many a tomb, like HAMILTON's, aloud
Exclaims, "Prepare thee for an early shroud."

EPITAPH ON A HARE.

HERE lies, whom hound did ne'er pursue,
Nor swifter greyhound follow,

Whofe foot ne'er tainted morning dew,
Nor e'er heard huntsman's hallo'.

Old Tiney, furlieft of his kind,

Who, nurfed with tender care, And to domeftic bounds confined, Was ftill a wild Jack-hare.

Though duly from my hand he took

His pittance every 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 ftraw;

Thiftles, or lettuces instead,

With fand to scour his maw.

On twigs of hawthorn he regaled,
On pippins' ruffet peel,

And, when his juicy falads failed,
Sliced carrot pleased him well.

A Turkey carpet was his lawn,
Whereon he loved to bound,
To skip and gambol like a fawn,
And swing his rump around.

His frisking was at evening hours,

For then he loft his fear,

But moft before approaching showers,

Or when a ftorm drew near.

Eight years and five round-rolling moons

He thus faw fteal away,

Dozing out all his idle noons,
And every night at play.

I kept him for his humour' fake,
For he would oft beguile

My heart of thoughts that made it ache,
And force me to a smile.

But now beneath his walnut shade

He finds his long laft home, And waits, in fnug concealment laid, Till gentler Pufs shall come.

He, ftill more aged, feels the fhocks,
From which no care can fave,

And, partner once of Tiney's box,
Muft foon partake his grave.

EPITAPHIUM ALTERUM,

Hic etiam jacet,
Qui totum novennium vixit,
Pufs.

Sifte paulifper,

Qui præteriturus es
Et tecum fic reputa-
Nunc neque canis venaticus,
Nec plumbum miffile,

Nec laqueus,

Nec imbres nimii,

Confecêre

Tamen mortuus eft

Et moriar ego.