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Then fare thee well! and to thy constant mind
Still be my memory dear, tho' I am gone; Still be each thought, each tender wish confin'd
To me whose heart is full of thee alone: Fond Hope the while shall cheer my drooping soul,
In sweet impatience shall the time employ, Shall chide the lazy moments as they roll,
And soothe my grief with thoughts of future joy.
INSCRIPTION at the Entrance of a BURIAL GROUND
for NEGRO SLAVES*.
BY THE LATE BRYAN EDWARDS, ESQ. STRANGER! whoe'er thou art, with reverence tread; Lo! these, the silent mansions of the dead! His life of labour o'er, the wearied slave Here finds, at length, soft quiet in the grave. View not, with proud disdain, the unsculptur'd heap, Where injur'd innocence forgets lo weep, Nor idly deem, although not here are found The solemn aisle and consecrated ground, The spot less sacred:~-o'er the turf-built shrine, Where Virtue sleeps, presides the Power Divine.
* On a plantation in Jamaica, belonging to the late Mr. Bryan Edwards, that gentleman's negroes had chosen for their burialground, a retired spot, in a grove of piemento or all-spice. It was a place extremely solemn and singularly beautiful; and Mr. Edwards directed, that, in case of his death in Jamaica, he should be buried in the midst of them. As the ground was exposed to the intrusions of cattle, he caused a fence to be raised round it, and inscribed these lines on the little wicket at the entrance.
* MOLINÆUS'S CAT, MITISSA.
AN AMPLIFIED TRANSLATION, WITH ADDITIONS,
BY THE LATE REV. T. COLE, LL.B.
MITISSA, well-bred Puss, descended
When through my garden walks I stray,
* Perhaps MOLINEUX.
Again, before thy sparkling eyes,
I home return; close, side by side,
Finding thyself, at length, neglected,
But though on folded paws tuck'd in,
pursue, And hark! my scribbling pen, with scratches, Thy quick, attentive ear now catches. Impatient quite, yet slowly rising, Because intent upon surprising, With gentle siep, and cautious fear, Thou creepest on-till station'd near, With eager wrigglings to express Thy purpose and secure success, Quick as at mouse in rustling straw, Thou dartest underneath thy paw; Then rais'd erect, up goes my paper, With gamesome cuff, and noddling caper. But this rude trick, though far from pleasing, Is yet so comically teazing, That, quite unable to resent, I laugh, and take it as 'twas meant, And having plac'd all matters right, Calmly proceed again to write. And now each letter that I trace Thou dost inspect with serious face; Musing, as if at loss to know What such marks mean, and whence they flow : But still perplext, and longing much To feel, if palpable to touch, Thy curious foot, to clear the doubt, Whips in, and blots my writing out. More teazing this; but love prevailing, I overlook this second failing. But thou more bold, the more excus'd, (And kindness thus is oft abus'd)
Some fresh assault hast soon devis'd,
And yet, methinks, I wish thee gone;