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V E R S E S,

WRITTEN AT THE REQUEST OF A GENTLEMAN

TO WHOM A LADY HAD GIVEN A

SPRIG OF MYRTLE*.

What hopes-what terrors does this gift create?

Ambiguous emblem of uncertain fate.
The myrtle (ensign of supreme command,
Consign’d to Venus by Melissa's hand)
Not less capricious than a reigning fair,
Oft favours, oft rejects a lover's prayer.
In myrtle ihades oft fings the happy swain,
In myrtle shades despairing ghosts complain.
The myrtle crowns the happy lovers heads,
The unhappy lovers graves the myrtle spreads.
Oh! then, the meaning of thy gift impart,
And ease the throbbings of an anxious heart.
Soon must this sprig, as you shall fix its doom,
Adorn Philander's head, or grace his tomb.

*These verses were first printed in a Magazine for 1768, but were written between forty and fifty years ago. Elegant as they are, they were composed in the short space of five minutes,

Το

To Lady FIREBRACE*,

At BURY ASSIZES.

AT length must Suffolk beauties shine in vain,

So long renown'd in B—-n's deathless strain ? Thy charms at least, fair Firebrace, might inspire Some zealous bard to wake the sleeping lyre; For such thy beauteous mind and lovely face, Thou seem'it at once, bright nymph, a Muse and

Grace,

To LYCE, an elderly Lady.
YE nymphs whom starry rays invest,

By Aattering poets given,
Who shine by lavish lovers drest,

In all the pomp of heaven;
Engross not all the beams on high,

Which gild a lover's lays,
But as your sister of the sky,

Let Lyce share the praise.

This lady was Bridget, third daughter of Philip Bacon, Ffq. of Ipswich, and reli&t of Philip Evers, Esq. of that town; the became the second wife of Sir Cordell Firebrace, the last Baronet of that name (to whom she brought a fortune of 25,000l.), July 26, 1737. Being again left a widow in 1759, she was a third time married, April 7, 1762, to William Campbell, Esq. uncle to the present Duke of Argyle, and died July 3, 1782.

Her

Her silver locks display the moon,

Her brows a cloudy show,
Strip'd rainbows round her eyes are feen,

And showers from either flow.
Her teeth the night with darkness dyes,

She's starr’d with pimples o’er;
Her tongue like nimble lightning plies,

And can with thunder roar.
But some Zelinda, while I fing,

Denies my Lyce shines ;
And all the pens of Cupid's wing

Attack my gentle lines.
Yet spite of fair Zelinda's eye,

And all her bards express,
My Lyce makes as good a sky,

And I but flatter less.

ON THE DEATH OF

Mr. ROBERT LEVET,

A Practiser in Physic. CONDEMN’D to Hope's delusive mine, ,

As on we coil from day to day,
By sudden blasts, or Now decline,

Our social comforts drop away.
Well try'd through many a varying year,

See Levet to the grave descend,
Officious, innocent, sincere,
Of every friendless name the friend.

Yet.

Yet still he fills affection's eye,

Obscurely wise and coarsely kind; Nor letter'd arrogance deny

Thy praise to merit unrefin'd. When fainting nature call’d for aid,

And hovering death prepar’d the blow, His vigorous remedy display'd

The power of art without the show. In mifery's darkest cavern known,

His useful care was ever nigh,
Where hopeless anguish pour’d his groan,

And lonely want retir'd to die.
No summons mock'd by chill delay,

No petty gain disdain’d by pride;
The modelt wants of every day

The toil of every day supply'd.
His virtues walk'd their narrow round,

Nor made a pause, nor left a void;
And sure th’ Eternal mafter found

The single talent well employ’d. The busy day-the peaceful night,

Unfelt, uncounted, glided by ; His frame was firm-his powers were bright,

Tho' now his eightieth year was nigh, Then with no fiery throbbing pain,

No cold gradations of decay, Death broke at once the vital chain,

And freed his soul the nearest way.

EPITAPH on CLAUDE PHILLIPS,

AN ITINERANT MUSICIAN.

PHILLIPS! whose touch harmonious could remove
The

pangs of guilty pow'r, and hapless love,
Rest here, distrest by poverty no more,
Find here that calm thou gav'st so oft before ;
Sleep undisturb’d within this peaceful shrine,
Till angels wake thee with a note like thine,

E P I T A P H I UM

IN

THOMAM HANMER, BARONETTUM.

Honorabilis admodum THOMAS HANMER,

Baronettus, Wilhelmi Hanmer armigeri è Peregrina Henrici

North De Mildenhal in Com: Sufrolciæ Baronetti forore

et hærede.

Filius
Johannis Hanmer de Haniner Baronetti

# These lines are among Mrs. Williams's Miscellanies; they are nevertheless recognized as Johnson's, in a memorandum of his hand-writing, and were probably written at her request. Phillips was a travelling Fidler up and down Wales, and was greatly celebrated for his performance,

Hæres

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