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Oft' when the curfew tolls it's parting krell,
With folemn pause yon' Church-yard's gloom furvey,
While forrow's fighs and tears of pity tell
How just the moral of the poet's lay."


O'er his green grave, in Contemplation's guife,
Oft' let the pilgrim drop a filent tear,
Oft' let the fhepherd's tender accents rise,
Big with the fweets of each revolving year,
Till proftrate Time adore his deathlefs name,
Fix'd on the folid base of adamantine fame.

* Elegy in a Country Church-yard.






LO! where the rofy-bofom'd hours,
Fair Venus' train, appear,
Difclose the long-expecting flow'rs,
And wake the purple year,

The attic warbler pours her throat
Refponfive to the cuckoo's note,
The untaught harmony of spring,
While, whifp'ring pleafure as they fly,
Cool zephyrs thro' the clear blue sky
Their gather'd fragrance fling.

Where'er the oak's thick branches ftretch
A broader, browner shade,

Where'er the rude and mofs-grown beech
O'er-canopies the glade,

Befide fome water's rushy brink
With me the Mufe fhall fit, and think
(At cafe reclin❜d in rustic state)
How vain the ardour of the crowd,
How low, how little, are the proud,
How indigent the great.

-a bank

O'er-canopy'd with luscious woodbine.

Shakefp. Mid. Dream,




Still is the toiling hand of Care,
The panting herds repose,

Yet hark! how thro' the peopled air
The bufy murmur glows!
The infect youth are on the wing,
Eager to taste the honey'd fpring,
And float amid the liquid noon;
Some lightly o'er the current skim,
Some fhew their gayly-gilded trim,
Quick-glancing to the fun. †

To contemplation's fober eye,
Such is the race of man,


And they that creep and they that fly
Shall end where they began.

Alike the bufy and the


But flutter thro' life's little day,

In fortune's varying colours dreft ;
Brufh'd by the hand of rough Mifchance,
Or chill'd by Age, their airy dance

They leave, in dust to rest.

Methinks I hear, in accents low,

The fportive kind reply,

Poor Moralift! and what art thou?

A folitary fly!

• Nare per

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æftatem liquidam. Virg. Georg. lib. 4. -fporting with quick glance,




Shew to the fun their wav'd coats dropt with gold.

Milton's Paradife Loft, b. 7.

While infects from the threshold preach, &c. Mr.Green in the Grotto. Dodfley's Mifcellanies,vol.v.p.163.

Thy joys no glitt❜ring female meets,
No hive haft thou of hoarded fweets,
No painted plumage to display;
On hafty wings thy youth is flown,
Thy fun is fet, thy fpring is gone-
We frolic while 'tis May.


Drowned in a Tub of Gold Fibes.

"TWAS on a lofty vafe's fide,

Where China's gayeft art had dy'd

The azure flow'rs that blow,
Demureft of the tabby kind,
The penfive Selima, reclin'd,
Gaz'd on the lake below.

Her conscious tail her joy declar'd ;
The fair round face, the fnowy beard,
The velvet of her paws,

Her coat that with the tortoife vies,
Her ears of jet, and emʼrald eyes,
She faw, and purr'd applause.

Still had fhe gaz'd, but, 'midst the tide,
Two angel forms were seen to glide,
The Genii of the stream;

Their fcaly armour's Tyrian hue,
Thro' richest purple, to the view
Betray'd a golden gleam.

The hapless nymph with wonder faw:
A whisker firft, and then a claw,






With many an ardent wish,

She ftretch'd in vain to reach the prize:
What female heart can gold defpife?
What Cat's averfe to fish?

Prefumpt❜ous maid! with looks intent,
Again fhe ftretch'd, again fhe bent,
Nor knew the gulf between:
(Malignant Fate fat by and fmil'd,)
The flipp'ry verge her feet beguil'd;
She tumbl'd headlong in.

Eight times emerging from the flood,
She mew'd to ev'ry wat❜ry god
Some speedy aid to fend.

No Dolphin came, no Nereid ftirr'd,
Nor cruel Tom or Susan heard:
A fav'rite has no friend!



From hence, ye Beauties! undeceiv'd,
Know one falfe ftep is ne'er retriev'd,


And be with caution bold:

Not all that tempts your wand'ring eyes,
And heedlefs hearts, is lawful prize,

Nor all that glifters gold.

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