EPITAPH ON FOP, A DOG BELONGING TO

LADY THROCKMORTON.

HOUGH once a puppy, and though Fop by name,

Here moulders one whofe bones fome
honour claim.

No fycophant, although of spaniel race,
And though no hound, a martyr to the chafe-
Ye fquirrels, rabbits, leverets, rejoice,
Your haunts no longer echo to his voice;
This record of his fate exulting view,
He died worn out with vain pursuit of you.

Yes," the indignant shade of Fop replies— "And worn with vain pursuit man also dies.” August, 1792.

SONNET TO GEORGE ROMNEY, ESQ. On his Picture of me in Crayons, drawn at Eartham in the 61st Year of my Age, and in the Months of Auguft and September, 1792.

R

OMNEY, expert infallibly to trace

On chart or canvass, not the form alone
And femblance, but, however faintly

shown,

The mind's impreffion too on every

face

With ftrokes that time ought never to erase
Thou haft fo pencil'd mine, that though I own

The fubject worthless, I have never known
The artist shining with superior grace,

But this I mark-that fymptoms none of woe
In thy incomparable work appear.

Well I am fatisfied it fhould be so,

Since, on maturer thought, the cause is clear;

For in my looks what forrow couldst thou fee
When I was Hayley's gueft, and fat to thee?
October, 1792.

MARY AND JOHN.

F John marries Mary, and Mary alone, 'Tis a very good match between Mary and John.

Should John wed a fcore, oh, the claws and the

scratches!

It can't be a match:-'tis a bundle of matches.

EPITAPH ON MR. CHESTER, OF

CHICHELEY.

EARS flow, and cease not, where the good man lies,

Till all who know him follow to the

fkies.

Tears therefore fall where Chester's afhes fleep; Him wife, friends, brothers, children, servants,

weep

And juftly;-few shall ever him transcend
As husband, parent, brother, master, friend.

April, 1793.

TO MY COUSIN, ANNE BODHAM,

On Receiving from her a Network Purse, made by berfelf.

Y gentle Anne, whom heretofore,
When I was young, and thou no more
Than plaything for a nurse,

I danced and fondled on my knee,
A kitten both in fize and glee,-

I thank thee for my purse.

Gold

pays

the worth of all things here;

But not of love;-that gem's too dear
For richest rogues to win it;
I, therefore, as a proof of love,
Efteem thy present far above
The best things kept within it.

May 4, 1793.

INSCRIPTION FOR A HERMITAGE IN THE AUTHOR'S GARDEN.

HIS cabin, Mary, in my fight appears,
Built as it has been in our waning years,
A reft afforded to our weary feet,
Preliminary to the last retreat.

May, 1793.

TO MRS. UNWIN.

ARY! I want a lyre with other strings,
Such aid from Heaven as fome have

feign'd they drew,

An eloquence scarce given to mortals, new And undebased by praise of meaner things, That, ere through age or woe I shed my wings, I may record thy worth with honour due, In verfe as mufical as thou art true,

And that immortalizes whom it fings.

But thou haft little need. There is a book

By feraphs writ with beams of heavenly light, On which the eyes of God not rarely look, A chronicle of actions just and bright; There all thy deeds, my faithful Mary, shine, And, fince thou own'st that praise, I spare thee

mine.

May, 1793.

TO JOHN JOHNSON,

On his Prefenting me with an antique Buft of
Homer.

INSMAN beloved, and as a fon, by me!
When I behold this fruit of thy regard,
The sculptured form of my old fa-
vourite bard,

I reverence feel for him, and love for thee.
Joy too and grief. Much joy that there should be
Wise men and learn'd, who grudge not to reward
With fome applause my bold attempt and hard,
Which others fcorn; critics by courtesy.
The grief is this, that, funk in Homer's mine,

I lose my precious years, now foon to fail, Handling his gold, which, how foe'er it shine, Proves drofs when balanced in the Christian

fcale.

Be wiser thou;-like our forefather Donne, Seek heavenly wealth, and work for God alone.

May, 1793.