BY E. DX, ESQ. ON HIS DAUGHTER'S BIRTH
THE twenty-fecond day of May
Is little Fanny's natal day;
Pretty warblers of the wood,
Quit awhile your callow brood,
Gaily prune each gaudy wing,
Each a merry carol bring,
To commemorate the morn,
When my little maid was born.
Come, Aurora! bring thy hours,
All array'd in May-morn flowers;
Ev'ry hour thall wear a finile,
Little troubles to beguile;
Airy phantoms, lightly tread
O'er the cowflip's glittering head,
O'er the cup of golden hue,
Fill'd this morn with filver dew,
By kind Nature fill'd for you;
Let each little fairy lip,
Of the pearly dew-drop fip,
Nature pours out all her wealth,
Drink to her's and Fanny's health;
She, I'm fure, will not refufe,
Gratefully thofe gifts to use.
F 6
O Innocence! protect her Youth,
Lead her down the paths of Truth,
Culling fweets from every flower,
Truth has twin'd round Virtue's bower,
There to dwell with fweet Content,
Virtue's conftant refident.
Sweets too redolent will cloy; Prudence mildly tempers joy;
Thorns may grow tho' sweets are near,
Pity oft will have her tear;
Tears will start, howe'er confin'd,
From a feeling generous mind.
Idlenefs for ever meets
Bitter, in its cup of fweets!
Let her not recline her head,
Long on Pleasure's rofy bed,
Pleafure does itself deftroy,
Be improvement then her toy,
Doing right her greatest joy.
Mindful of her parent's nod,
And her duty to her God;
Tell her to the good and wife,
Every place is paradife;
"Every month to them is May,
And a birth-day every day."
WHENE'ER the cruel hand of Death
Untimely stops a fav'rite's breath,
Mufes in plaintive numbers tell
How lov'd he liv'd-how mourn'd he fell :
Catullus 'wail'd his fparrow's fate,
And Gray immortaliz'd his cat.
Thrice tuneful bards! could I but chime fo clever, My Quart, my honest Quart, fhould live for ever.
How weak is all a mortal's pow'r,
T'avert the death-devoted hour!
Nor can a fhape, or beauty fave,
From the fure conqueft of the grave.
In vain the butler's choiceft care,
The master's wish, the burfer's pray'r!
For when life's lengthen'd to its longest span,
China itself muft fall, as well as Man.
Can I forget how oft my Quart
Has footh'd my care, and warm'd my heart?
When barley lent its balmy aid,
And all its liquid charms difplay'd!
When orange and the nut-brown toast
Swam mantling round the fpicey coast!
The pleafing depth I view'd with sparkling eyes,
Nor envied Jove the nectar of the skies.
The fide-board, on that fatal day,
When you in glitt'ring ruins lay,
Mourn'd at thy lofs-in guggling tone,
Decanters poured out their moan-
A dimnefs hung on ev'ry glafs-
* wonder'd what the matter wasCorks felf contracted free'd the frantic beer, And fympathizing tankards dropt a tear.
Where are the flow'ry wreaths that bound
In rofy rings thy chaplets round?
The azure ftars whofe glitt'ring rays
Promis'd a happier length of days!
The trees that on thy border grew,
And bloffom'd with eternal blue !
Trees, ftars and flow'rs are scatter'd on the floor,
And all thy brittle beauties are no more.—
Hadft thou been form'd of coarfer earth,
Had Nottingham but giv'n thee birth!
Or had thy variegated fide
Of Stafford's fable hue been dy'd,
Thy ftately fabric had been found,
Tho' tables tumbled on the ground.-
The finest mould the fooneft will decay;
Hear this, ye Fair, for you yourselves are clay!
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