INSCRIPTION FOR A STONE

Erected at the Sowing of a Grove of Oaks at Chillington, the Seat of T. Giffard, Efq. 1790.

THER ftones the era tell

When fome feeble mortal fell;

I ftand here to date the birth

Of these hardy fons of Earth.
Which fhall longeft brave the sky,
Storm and frost-these Oaks or I?
Pass an age or two away,

I must moulder and decay,
But the years that crumble me
Shall invigorate the tree,
Spread its branch, dilate its fize,
Lift its fummit to the skies.

Cherish honour, virtue, truth,
So fhalt thou prolong thy youth.
Wanting these, however faft
Man be fix'd and form'd to last,
He is lifeless even now,

Stone at heart, and cannot grow.

June, 1790.

ANOTHER,

For a Stone erected on a fimilar Occafion at the fame Place in the following year.

June, 1790.

EADER! Behold a monument
That asks no figh or tear,
Though it perpetuate the event
Of a great burial here.

Anno 1791.

TO MRS. KING,

On her kind Prefent to the Author, a Patchwork
Counterpane of her own making.

HE Bard, if e'er he feel at all,
Muft fure be quicken'd by a call
Both on his heart and head,
To pay with tuneful thanks the care
And kindness of a lady fair

Who deigns to deck his bed.

A bed like this, in ancient time,
On Ida's barren top fublime,

(As Homer's Epic shows)

Composed of fweeteft vernal flowers,
Without the aid of fun or showers,

For Jove and Juno rofe.

Lefs beautiful, however gay,

Is that which in the fcorching day
Receives the weary swain,

Who, laying his long scythe afide,
Sleeps on fome bank with daifies pied,
Till roused to toil again.

What labours of the loom I fee!
Looms numberlefs have groan'd for me!
Should every maiden come

To scramble for the patch that bears
The imprefs of the robe fhe wears,
The bell would toll for fome.

And oh, what havoc would enfue!
This bright difplay of every hue
All in a moment fled!

As if a storm should strip the bowers
Of all their tendrils, leaves, and flowers-
Each pocketing a shred.

Thanks then to every gentle Fair
Who will not come to peck me bare
As bird of borrow'd feather,
And thanks to one above them all,
The gentle Fair of Pertenhall,
Who put the whole together.

August 14, 1790.

TRANSLATION OF AN EPIGRAM

OF HOMER.*

AY me my price, potters! and I will
fing.

Attend, O Pallas! and with lifted arm

Protect their oven; let the cups and all

The facred veffels blacken well, and, baked
With good fuccefs, yield them both fair renown
And profit, whether in the market fold

Or streets, and let no ftrife enfue between us.
But, oh ye potters! if with shameless front
Ye falfify your promife, then I leave
No mischief uninvoked to avenge the
Come, Syntrips, Smaragus, Sabactes, come,
And Afbetus, nor let your direft dread,
Omodamus, delay! Fire feize

wrong.

your house,
May neither house nor veftibule escape,
May ye lament to fee confufion mar
And mingle the whole labour of

your hands,

* No title is prefixed to this piece, but it appears to be a translation of one of the Επιγραμματα of Homer called Ὁ Κάμινος or the Furnace. Herodotus, or whoever was the Author of the Life of Homer afcribed to him, obferves, " certain potters, while they were bufied in baking their ware, seeing Homer at a small diftance, and having heard much faid of his wisdom, called to him, and promised him a present of their commodity and of fuch other things as they could afford, if he would fing to them, when he fang as follows."

And may a found fill all your oven, such
As of a horse grinding his provender,
While all your pots and flagons bounce within.
Come hither alfo, daughter of the fun,
Circe the forcerefs, and with thy drugs
Poison themselves, and all that they have made!
Come alfo, Chiron, with thy numerous troop
Of centaurs, as well thofe who died beneath
The club of Hercules, as who escaped,
And stamp their crockery to duft; down fall
Their chimney; let them see it with their eyes,
And howl to fee the ruin of their art,
While I rejoice; and if a potter stoop
To peep into his furnace, may the fire
Flash in his face and fcorch it, that all men
Obferve, thenceforth, equity and good faith.

Oct. 1790.

IN MEMORY OF THE LATE JOHN THORNTON, ESQ

OETS attempt the noblest task they can,
Praising the Author of all good in man,
And, next, commemorating Worthies

loft,

The dead in whom that good abounded most.

Thee, therefore, of commercial fame, but more Famed for thy probity from shore to shore;