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If she sit, or if she move,
Vain the casual, transient glance,
and rich brocade.
TO A FRIEND.
No more thus brooding o'er yon heap,
With science tread the wond'rous way,
Thus taste the feast by nature spread, Ere youth and all its joys are fled; Come taste with me the balm of life, Secure from pomp, and wealth, and strife.
I boast whate'er for man was meant,
STELLA IN MOURNING.
When lately Stella's form display'd
gay brocade, The nymphs, who found their power decline, Proclaim'd her not so fair as fine. “ Fate! snatch away the bright disguise, “ And let the goddess trust her eyes." Thus blindly pray'd the Fretful Fair, And Fate malicious heard the pray'r; But, brighten'd by the sable dress, As virtue rises in distress, Since Stella still extends her reign, Ah! how shall envy sooth her pain ?
Th' adoring Youth and envious Fair, Henceforth shall form one common prayer; And love and hate alike implore The skies" That Stella mourn no more.”
Not the soft sighs of vernal gales,
Not all the gems on India's shore,
Not all the power, nor all the fame,
Written at the Request of a Gentleman to whom a
Lady had given a Sprig of Myrtle*.
What hopes, what terrors, does thy gift create?
* These verses were first printed in the Gentleman's Magazine for 1768, p. 439, but were written many years earlier. Elegant as they are, they were composed in the short space of five minutes.
TO LADY FIREBRACE*,
AT BURY ASSIZES.
At length must Suffolk beauties shine in vain,
TO LYCE, AN ELDERLY LADY.
Ye nymphs whom starry rays invest,
By flatt'ring poets given,
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.
Her silver locks display the moon,
Her brows a cloudy show,
And show'rs from either flow.
Her teeth the night with darkness dyes,
She's starr'd with pimples o’er;
And can with thunder roar.
* This lady was Bridget, third daughter of Philip Bacon, Esq. of Ipswich, and relict of Philip Evers, Esq. of that town. She became the second wife of Sir Cordell Firebrace, the last Baronet of that name (to whom she brought a fortune of 25,0001.) 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.
But some Zelinda, while I sing,
Denies my Lyce shines ;
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 Aatter less.
ON THE DEATH OF
MR. ROBERT LEVET,
A Practiser in Physic.
CONDEMN'D to Hope's delusive mine,
As on we toil from day to day, By sudden blasts, or slow decline,
Our social comforts drop away. Well try'd through many a varying year,
See Levet to the grave descend, Officious, innocent, sincere,
Of ev'ry friendless name the friend. 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 hov'ring death prepar'd the blow, His vig'rous remedy display'd
The pow'r of art without the show. In misery's darkest cavern known,
His useful care was ever nigh, Vol. I.