Go to I will not hear of it-To-morrow! 'Tis a fharper, who stakes his penury Against thy plenty who takes thy ready cash, And pays thee nought but wishes, hopes, and promises, The currency of ideots. Injurious bankrupt, That gulls the eafy creditor!-To-morrow! It is a period no where to be found. Wisdom disclaims the word, nor holds society But foft, my friend-arreft the present moments; For be affur'd, they all are arrant tell-tales; And though their flight be filent, and their path Didft let them pafs unnotic'd, unimprov'd. And know, for that thou slumber'dst on the guard, For For every fugitive: and when thou thus Imprint the marks of wisdom on its wings. 'Tis of more worth than kingdoms! far more precious Than all the crimson treasures of life's fountain. Oh! let it not elude thy grafp, but like The good old patriarch upon record, Hold the fleet angel faft, until he bless thee. I On Lord COBHAM's Gardens. By the Same. T puzzles much the fages' brains, Where Eden ftood of yore; Some place it in Arabia's plains, Some fay, it is no more. But Cobham can thefe tales confute, As all the curious know; For he has prov'd beyond difpute, That paradife is Srow. 火燒 To F To a Child of Five Years old. By the Same. AIREST flow'r, all flow'rs excelling, Flow'rs of Eve's imbower'd dwelling, How the bud its fweets discloses, Lilies are, by plain direction, Emblems of a double kind; Emblems of thy fairer mind. Then pursue good fenfe and duty, Evergreens, that ne'er decay. • Alluding to Milton's defcription of Eve's bower. Father Father FRANCIS's Prayer. Written in Lord WESTMORLAND'S Hermitage. N E gay attire, ne marble hall, Ne arched roof, ne pictur'd wall; But not the good, perdie nor fair, And oft, not always, with me dwell; The gravely dull, and pertly gay, Right well I ween that in this age, An Inscription on the Cell. Beneath these mofs-grown roots, this ruftic cell, An Inscription in the Cell. Sweet bird that fing'ft on yonder spray, While I beneath this breezy fhade, In peace repose my careless head; |