Yet ev’n those bones from insult to protect
Some frail memorial still erected nigh,
With uncouth rhymes and shapelels sculpture deck'd
Implores the paling tribute of a figh.

Their name, their years, fpelt by the unletter'd Muse,
The place of fame and elegy supply:
And many a holy text around the strews,
That teach the ruftic moraliit to die.

For who to dumb Forgetfulness a prey,
This pleasing anxious being e'er relign'd,
Left the warm precincts of the chearíul day,
Nor cast one longing ling'ring look behind?

On some fond breast the parting soul relies,
Some pious drops the clofing eye requires ;.
Ev’n from the tomb the voice of Nature cries,
Ev'n in our Ames live their wonted Fires.

For thee, who mindful of th' unhonour's Dead
Dost in these lines their artless tale relate;
If chance, by lonely Contemplation led,
Some kindred fpirit shall enquire thy fate.

Haply fome hoary-headed swain may say,
• Oft have we seen him at the peep of dawn

Brushing with halty steps the dews away
To meet the sun upon the upland lawn.
• There at the foot of yonder nodding beach
• That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high,
• His listless length at noon-tide would he itretch,
. And pore upon the brouk that babbles by.
• Hard by yon wood, now smiling as in scorn,
• Mutt'ring his wayward fancies he would rove;
• Now drooping, woeful wan, like one forlorn,
• Or craz'd with care, or cross'd in hopeless love.

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One morn I miss'd him on the custom'd hill,
Along the heath and near his fav’rite tree :

Another came; nor yet beside the rill,
• Nor up the Lawn, nor at the wood was he ;

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· The next with dirges due in fad array, • Slow through the church-way path we saw him born, ' Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay, • Gravid on the stone beneath yon aged thorn.'

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HERE refis his head upon the lap of Earth,

A Youth to Fortune and to fame unknorun ; Fair Science frown'd not on his humble birth, And Melancholy markd him for her own.

Large was his bounty, and his soul 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 be wijk'd) a friend

No farther seek his merits to disclose,
Or draw his frailties from their dread aboda,
(There they alike in trembling hope repose)
The bofom of his Father, and his God.

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ORROWING, the Nine beneath yon blasted yew

Shed the bright drops of Pity's holy dew!
Mute are their tuneful tongues, extinct their fires;.
Yet not in silence Neep their silver lyres;
To the bleak gale they vibrate fad and Now,
In deep accordance to a Nation's woe.

Ye, who ere while for Cook's illustrious brow
Pluck'd the green laurel, and the oaken bough,
Hung the gay garlands on the trophied oars,
And pour'd his fame along a thousand shores,
Strike the flow death-bell! weave the sacred verse,
And strew the cypress o'er his honor'd hearse;

In sad proceflion wander round the shrine,
And weep him mortal whom ye sung divine !


Say first, what Pow'r inspir'd his dauntless breast With scorn of danger and inglorious rest, To quit imperial London's gorgeous plains, Where, rob'd in thousand tints, bright Pleasure reigns ; cups

of summer-ice her nectar pours, And twines, 'mid wintry snows, her roseate bow'rs ? Where Beauty moves with undulating grace, Calls the sweet blush to wanton o'er her face, On each fond Youth her soft artillery tries, Aims her light smile, and rolls her frolic eyes ?

What Pow'r inspir'd his dauntless breast to brave The scorch'd Equator, and th' Antarctic wave ? Climes, where fierce suns in cloudless ardors shine, And pour the-dazzling deluge round the Line ; The realms of frost, where icy mountains rise, 'Mid the pale summer of the polar skies? It was HUMANITY!-on coasts unknown, The shiv'ring natives of the frozen zone, And the swart Indian, as he faintly Itrays " Where Cancer reddens in the folar blaze." She bade him seek ;-on each inclement shore Plant the rich seeds of her exhaustless store ; Unite the favage hearts, and hostile hands, In the firm compact of her gentle bands ; Strew her foft comfort's o'er the barren plain, Sing her sweet lays, and confecrate her fane.

IT WAS HUMANITY!-O Nymph divine !
I see thy light step print the burning Line !
There thy bright eye the dubious pilot guides,
The faint oar truggling with the fcalding tides.
On as thou, lead'it the bold, the glorious prow,
Mild, and more mild, the Coping sun-beams glow ;.
Now weak and pale the leffen'd lustres play,
As round th' horizon rolls the timid day;

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