AN EPITAPH. HE modeft front of this small floor TBelieve me, reader, can say more Than many a braver marble can, Not only in despite of Rome; He loved his father, yet his zeal Tore not off his mother's veil; When age and death call'd for the score, Death tore not, therefore, but, sans ftrife, So, while these lines can but bequeath His life ftill kept alive in thee. Richard Crafhaw. 1637-1650. A THE TOUCHSTONE. MAN there came, whence none could tell, And tefted all things in the land By its unerring spell. Quick birth of transmutation smote The fair to foul, the foul to fair; Purple nor ermine did he spare, Nor scorn the dufty coat. Of heirloom jewels, prized so much, Were many changed to chips and clods, Then angrily the people cried, "The lofs outweighs the profit far; Our goods suffice us as they are; We will not have them tried.” And fince they could not so avail To check this unrelenting guest, They seized him, saying "Let him teft How real is our jail!" But, though they flew him with the sword, Its doings could not be o'erturn'd, Its undoings restored. And when, to stop all future harm, They ftrew'd its afhes on the breeze; They little gueff'd each grain of these Convey'd the perfect charm. William Allingham. A GRATITUDE AND GRACE. LAS these vifits rare and rude Our weak, wild burfts of gratitude, Oh, never shall Thy mercy make The flow of grace divine? When shall our grateful raptures rise And link to endless harmonies T. H. Gill. PEACE CONTENT. EACE, muttering thoughts! and do not grudge to keep Within the walls of your own breast. Who cannot on his own bed sweetly fleep Can on another's hardly reft. Gad not abroad at every queft and call To court each place or fortune that doth fall, Mark, how the fire in flints doth quiet lie Give me the pliant mind, whose gentle measure Which can let loose to a crown, and yet with pleasure Take up within a cloister's gates. This soul doth span the world, and hang content From either pole unto the centre: |