XXVIII.

The mofs-grown tree, that fhrinks with rolling years,
The drooping flowers that die so soon away,
Let not thy heart alarm with boding fears,
Nor thy own ruin date from their decay:
The blushing rofe, that breathes the balmy dew,
No pleafing transports of perception knows;
The rev'rend oak, that circling springs renew,
Thinks not, nor by long age experienc'd grows :

Thy fate and theirs confefs no kindred tie:

Though their frail forms may fade, fhall fenfe and reason

XXIX.

Nor lef life's ills, that in dire circle rage,

Steal from thy heaving breast those labour'd fighs;

Thefe, the kind tutors of thy infant age,

Train the young pupil for the future skies : Unfchool'd in early prime, in riper years

Wretched and fcorn'd still struts the bearded boy: The tingling rod bedew'd with briny tears

[die?

Shoots forth in graceful fruits of manly joy :
The painful cares that vex the toilsome spring
Shall plenteous crops of blifs in life's last harvest bring.
XXX.

She ceas'd, and vanifh'd into fightless wind

O'er my torn breast alternate paffions fway, Now Doubt defponding damps the wav'ring mind, Now Hope reviving theds her cheerful ray.

Soon

Soon from the skies in heav'nly white array'd,
Faith to my fight reveal'd, fair Cherub! ftood,
With life replete the volume the difplay'd,

Seal'd with the ruddy ftains of crimson-blood;"
Each fear now starts away, as spectres fly
When the fun's orient beam first gilds the purple sky.

XXXI.

Mean while the faithful herald of the day, 32

The village cock, crows loud with trumpet fhrill,
The warbling lark foars high, and, morning grey,
Lifts her glad forehead o'er the cloud-wrapt hill':
Nature's wild mufic fills the vocal vale;

The bleating flocks that bite the dewy ground,
The lowing herds that graze the woodland dale,
And cavern'd echo, fwell the cheerful found;
Homeward I bend with clear unclouded mind,
Mix with the bufy world, and leave each care behind.

TO THE MEMORY OF A GENTLEMAN, Who died on his Travels to ROME.

Written' in 1738.

i

By the Rev. Dr. SHIPLEY (now Bishop of ST. ASAPH). ANGTON, dear partner of my foul,

Accept what pious paffion meditates

To grace thy fate. Sad memory And grateful love, and impotent regret Shall wake to paint thy gentle mind, 2.George Lewis Langton, Esq.

Thy

Thy wife good-nature, friendship delicate
In fecret converfe, native mirth
And fprightly fancy, fweet artificer
Of focial pleasure; nor forgot

The noble thirst of knowledge and fair fame
That led thee far through foreign climes
Inquifitive but chief the pleasant banks
Of Tiber, ever-honour'd stream,
Detain'd thee vifiting the laft remains
Of ancient art; fair forms exact

In fculpture, columns, and the mould'ring bulk
Of theatres. In deep thought rapt
Of old renown, thy mind survey'd the scenes
Delighted, where the first of men
Once dwelt, familiar: Scipio, virtuous chief,
Stern Cato, and the patriot mind
Of faithful Brutus, best philofopher.

Well did the generous fearch employ

Thy blooming years by virtue crown'd, though death
Unseen opprefs'd thee, far from home,

A helpless stranger. No familiar voice,
No pitying eye, cheer'd thy laft pangs.
O worthy longest days! for thee shall flow
The pious folitary tear,

And thoughtful friendship fadden o'er thine urn.

Captain THOMAS, of BATTEREAU's Regiment, in the Ifle of SKIE, to Captain PRICE, at Fört AUGUSTUS.

NOME, Thomas, give us t'other fonnet.

COM

Dear captain, pray reflect upon it.

Was ever fo abfurd a thing?

What, at the pole to bid me fing!

Alas! fearch all the mountains round,

There's no Thalia to be found;
And Fancy, child of fouthern skies,
Averse the fullen region flies.

I fcribble verses! why you know
I left the Mufes long ago,
Deserted all the tuneful band

To right the files, and study Bland.
Indeed in youth's fantastic prime
Miled I wander'd into rhyme,

a This military author was once ftudent of Christ Church, Oxford, and a divine. He was mortally wounded and taken prisoner at the first attack on Belleisle, April 8, 1761, being then quartermafter-général, and lieutenant-colonel of Whitmore's regiment of foot.

♦ Bland's Treatife on Military Discipline, 8vo.

And

And various fonnets penn'd in plenty
On every nymph from twelve to twenty;
Compar❜d to roses, pinks and lilies,
The cheeks of Chloe and of Phillis ;
With all the cant you find in many
A ftill-born modern mifcellany.
My lines how proud was I to fee 'em
Steal into Dodfley's new Museum,
Or in a letter fair and clean
Committed to the Magazine!

Our follies change-that whim is o'er-
The bagatelles amuse no more.
Know by these presents, that in fine.
I quit all commerce with the Nine.
Love-strains, and all poetic matters,
Lampoons, epiftles, odes, and fatires,
These toys and trifles I discard,
And leave the bays to poet Ward a.
Know, now to politics confign'd
I give up all the bufy mind;
Curious each pamphlet I peruse,
And fip my coffee o'er the news.
But à propos-for last Courant,
Pray thank the lady governante.

The Museum, or the Literary and Historical Regifter, published by Mr. Dodfley in the years 1746 and 1747, and confifting of 3 vols. in 8vo.

d An officer of the fame regiment.

R 2

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