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PRINTED IN THE NORTHAMPTON MERCURY.

To purify their wine, some people bleed
A lamb into the barrel, and succeed;
No nostrum, planters say, is half so good
To make fine sugar as a negro's blood.
Now lambs and negroes both are harmless things,
And thence perhaps this wondrous virtue springs,
'Tis in the blood of innocence alone-
Good cause why planters never try their own.

TO DR. AUSTIN, OF CECIL STREET, LONDON.

Austin! accept a grateful verse from me,
The poet's treasure, no inglorious fee.
Loved by the muses, thy ingenuous mind
Pleasing requital in my verse may find;
Verse oft has dash'd the sithe of Time aside,
Immortalizing names which else had died:
And O! could I command the glittering wealth
With which sick kings are glad to purchase health!
Yet, if extensive fame, and sure to live,
Were in the power of verse like mine to give,
I would not recompense his arts with less,
Who, giving Mary health, heals my distress.

Friend of my friend ! * I love thee, though unknown, And boldly call thee, being his, my own.

May 26, 1792.

* Hayley.

CATHARINA:

THE SECOND PART: ON HER MARRIAGE TO GEORGE

COURTENAY, ESQ.

Believe it or not, as you choose,

The doctrine is certainly true,
That the future is known to the muse,

And poets are oracles too.
I did but express a desire

To see Catharina at home,
At the side of my friend George's fire,

And lo-she is actually come!
Such prophecy some may despise,

But the wish of a poet and friend Perhaps is approved in the skies,

And therefore attains to its end. 'Twas a wish that flew ardently forth

From a bosom effectually warm’d With the talents, the graces, and worth

Of the person for whom it was form’d.

Maria * would leave us, I knew,

To the grief and regret of us all, But less to our grief, could we view

Catharina the Queen of the Hall.

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!

And therefore I wish'd as I did,

And therefore this union of hands
Not a whisper was heard to forbid,

But all cry-Amen—to the bans.

Since, therefore, I seem to incur

No danger of wishing in vain
When making good wishes for her,

I will e'en to my wishes again--
With one I have made her a wife,

And now I will try with another,
Which I cannot suppress

for
my

life-
How soon I can make her a mother.
June, 1792.

EPITAPH ON FOP, A DOG BELONGING TO

LADY THROCKMORTON.

Though once a puppy, and though Fop by name,
Here moulders one whose bones some honour claim
No sycophant, although of spaniel race,
And though no hound, a martyr to the chace-
Ye squirrels, 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 August and September, 1792. Romney, expert infallibly to trace

On chart or canvass, not the form alone

And semblance, but however faintly shown, The mind's impression too on every faceWith strokes that time ought never to erase,

Thou hast so pencill’d mine, that though I own

The subject worthless, I have never known
The artist shining with superior grace.
But this I mark—that symptoms none of woe

In thy incomparable work appear.
Well I am satisfied it should be so,

Since, on maturer thought, the cause is clear ; For in my looks what sorrow couldst thou see When I was Hayley's guest, and sat to thee?

October, 1792.

MARY AND JOHN.

If John marries Mary, and Mary alone, 'Tis a very good match between Mary and John. Should John wed a score, oh, the claws and the

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

EPITAPH ON MR. CHESTER, OF CHICHELEY.

Tears flow, and cease not, where the good man lies,
Till all who knew him follow to the skies.
Tears therefore fall where Chester's ashes sleep;
Him wife, friends, brothers, children, servants

weep-
And justly-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 HERSELF.

My 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 size 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,
Esteem thy present far above

The best things kept within it.
May 4, 1793.

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