Their name, their years, fpelt by th' unletter'd Muse,
The place of fame and elegy fupply:

And many a holy text around she strews,
That teach the ruftic moralift to dye.

For who to dumb Forgetfulness a prey,
This pleafing anxious being e'er refign'd,
Left the warm precincts of the chearful day,
Nor caft one longing ling'ring look behind?

On fome fond breaft the parting foul relies,
Some pious drops the clofing eye requires ;
Ev'n from the tomb the voice of Nature cries,
Ev'n in our Ashes live their wonted Fires.

For thee, who mindful of th' unhonour'd Dead
Doft in these lines their artlefs tale relate;
If chance, by lonely Contemplation led,
Some kindred Spirit fhall inquire thy fate,
Haply fome hoary-headed Swain may fay,
• Oft have we seen him at the peep of dawn
Brufhing with hafty fteps the dews away

• To meet the fun upon the upland land.

• There at the foot of yonder nodding beech

• That wreathes its old fantastick roots so high,
His liflefs length at noon-tide wou'd he stretch,
6 And
pore upon the brook that babbles by.
A 3

• Hard

Hard by yon wood, now fmiling as in fcorn,

Mutt'ring his wayward fancies he wou'd rove; Now drooping, woeful wan, like one forlorn, • Or craz'd with care, or crofs'd in hopeless love.

• One morn I miss'd him on the custom'd hill,

Along the heath and near his fav'rite tree;

Another came; nor yet befide the rill,
Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he,

• The next with dirges due in fad array

Slow through the church-way path we faw him born, Approach and read (for thou can't read) the lay, Grav'd on the ftone beneath yon aged thorn.

The E PIT A PH.

TERE refts his head upon the lap of Earth,

HE

A Youth to Fortune and to Fame unknown, Fair Science frown'd not on his humble birth, And Melancholy mark'd him for her own.

Large was his bounty, and his foul fincere,
Heav'n did a recompence as largely fend :

He gave to Mis'ry all he had, a tear,

He gain'd from Heav'n ('twas all he wish'd) a friend.'

No farther feek his merits to difclofe,

Or draw his frailties from their dread abode, (There they alike in trembling hope repose)

The bofom of his Father and his God.

HYMN

HYMN to ADVERSITY.

By the Same.

AUGHTER of Jove, relentless Power,
Thou Tamer of the human breast,

Whofe iron fcourge and tort'ring hour
The Bad affright, afflict the Beft!
Bound in thy adamantine chain

The Proud are taught to tafte of pain,
And purple tyrants vainly groan

With pangs unfelt before, unpitied and alone.

When first thy Sire to fend on earth
Virtue, his darling Child, defign'd,
To thee he gave the heav'nly Birth,
And bad to form her infant mind.
Stern rugged Nurfe! thy rigid lore
With patience many a year fhe bore:

What forrow was, thou bad'ft her know,

And from her own fhe learn'd to melt at others' woe.

Scared at thy frown terrific, fly

Self-pleafing Folly's idle brood,

Wild Laughter, Noife, and thoughtless Joy,

And leave us leifure to be good.

Light they difperfe, and with them go

The fummer Friend, the flatt'ring Foe;

By vain Profperity received,

To her they vow their truth, and are again believed.

Wisdom in fable garb array'd,

Immers'd in rapt'rous thought profound,

And Melancholy, filent maid

With leaden eye, that loves the ground, Still on thy folemn steps attend:

Warm Charity, the gen'ral friend,

With juftice to herself severe,

And Pity, dropping foft the fadly-pleafing tear.

Oh! gently on thy Suppliant's head,

Dread Goddess, lay thy chaft'ning hand!

Not in thy Gorgon terrors clad,

Nor circled with the vengeful Band (As by the Impious thou art feen)

With thund'ring voice, and threat'ning mien,
With fcreaming Horror's funeral cry,
Defpair, and fell Disease, and ghastly Poverty.

Thy form benign, oh Goddefs, wear,

Thy milder influence impart,

Thy philofophic Train be there

To soften, not to wound my heart,

The gen'rous fpark extinct revive,
Teach me to love, and to forgive,

Exact my own defects to scan,

What others are to feel, and know myself a man.

5

EDU

Infcribed to Lady LANGHAM, Widow of Sir JOHN LANGHAM, Bart.

By GILBERT WEST, Efq;

Unum ftudium vere liberale eft, quod liberum facit. Hoc fapientia ftudium eft, fublime, forte, magnanimum: cœtera pufilla & puerilia funt.-Plus fcire velle quàm fit fatis intemperantiæ genus eft. Quid, quòd ifta liberalium artium confectatio moleftos, verbofos, intempeftivos, fibi placentes facit,& ideo non dicentes neceffaria, quia JuperSEN. Ep. 88.

vacua didicerunt.

Goodly DISCIPLINE! from heav'n y-fprong!
Parent of Science, queen of Arts refin'd!
To whom the Graces, and the Nine belong :
O! bid thofe Graces, in fair chorus join'd

With