VERSE 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 (enfign of fupreme command,
Confign'd to Venus by Meliffa's hand)
Not lefs capricious than a reigning fair,
Oft favours, oft rejects, a lover's pray'r.
In myrtle fhades oft fings the happy fwain,
In myrtle fhades defpairing glofts complain.
The myrtle crowns the happy lovers heads,
Th' unhappy lovers graves the myrtle fpreads.
Oh! then, the meaning of thy gift impart,
And ease the throbbings of an anxious heart.
Soon must this sprig, as you fhall fix its doom,
Adorn Philander's head, or grace his tomb,

*Thefe verfes were firft 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.

At Johnson's Out Har

To Lady FIREBRACE*,

At BURY ASSIZES.

AT length muft 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 fleeping lyre;

For, fuch thy beauteous mind and lovely face,

Thou feem'ft at once, bright nymph, a Mufe and
Grace.

To LYCE, an elderly Lady.

YE nymphs whom starry rays invest,
By flatt'ring poets given,

Who fhine, by lavish lovers dreft,.
In all the pomp of Heaven;

Engrofs not all the beams on high,
Which gild a lover's lays,
But, as your fifter of the fky,
Let Lyce fhare the praise.

* This lady was Bridget, third daughter of Philip Bacon, Esq. of Ipfwich, and relict of Philip Evers, Efq. of that town. She became the fecond wife of Sir Cordell Firebrace, the last Baronet of that name (to whom he brought a fortune of 25,0001.), July 26, 1737. Being again left a widow in 1759, the was a third time married, April 7, 1762, to William Campbell, Efq. uncle to the prefent Duke of Argyle; and died July 3, 182.

L 3

Her filver locks display the moon,

Her brows a cloudy show,

Strip'd rainbows round her eyes are feen,
And fhow'rs from either flow.

Her teeth the night with darkness dyes,
She's ftarr'd with pimples o'er;
Her tongue like nimble lightning plies,
And can with thunder roar.

But fome Zelinda, while I fing,
Denies my Lyce shines;

And all the pens of Cupid's wing
Attack my gentle lines.

Yet, fpite of fair Zelinda's eye,
And all her bards exprefs,
My Lyce makes as good a fky,
And I but flatter lefs.

ON THE DEATH OF

Mr. ROBERT LEVET,
A Practifer in Phyfic.

CONDEMN'D to Hope's delufive mine,

As on we toil from day to day,
By fudden blafts, or flow decline,
Our focial comforts drop away.

Well try'd through many a varying year,
See Levet to the grave defcend,

Officious, innocent, fincere,

Of ev'ry friendlefs name the friend.

Yet

Yet ftill he fills Affection's eye,
Obfcurely wife, and coarsely kind;
Nor, letter'd Arrogance, deny
Thy praise to merit unrefin'd.

When fainting nature call'd for aid,
And hov'ring death prepar'd the blow,
His vig'rous remedy display'd

The pow'r of art without the fhow.

In mifery's darkest cavern known,
His ufeful care was ever nigh,
Where hopeless anguish pour'd his groan,
And lonely want retir'd to die.

No fummons mock'd by chill delay,

No petty gain difdain'd by pride,

The modeft wants of ev'ry day
The toil of ev'ry day fupply'd.

His virtues walk'd their narrow round,
Nor made a paufe, nor left a void;
And fure th' Eternal Mafter found
The fingle talent well employ'd.

The bufy day-the peaceful night,
Unfelt, uncounted, glided by;

His frame was firm-his powers were bright,

Though 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 foul the nearest way.

1

EPITAPH on CLAUDE PHILLIPS,

AN ITINERANT MUSICIAN *.

PHILIPS! whofe touch harmonious could remove
The pangs of guilty pow'r, and hapless love,
Reft here, diftreft by poverty no more,
Find here that calm thou gav'ft so oft before;
Sleep undisturb'd within this peaceful shrine,
Till angels wake thee with a note like thine.

EPITAPHIUM†

IN

THOMAM HANMER, BARONETTUM.

Honorabilis admodum THOMAS HANMER,
Baronettus,

Wilhelmi Hanmer armigeri, è Peregrinâ Henrici
North

De Mildenhall in Com. Suffolcia Baronetti forore et hærede, Filius ;

Johannis Hanmer de Hanmer Baronetti

* These lines are among Mrs. Williams's Mifcellanies: 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.

† At Hanmer church, in Flintshire.

Hæres