ON HIS APPROACHING VISIT TO HAYLEY. THROUGH floods and flames to your retreat I win my desperate way, And when we meet, if e'er we meet, July 29, 1792. Will echo your huzza. TO GEORGE ROMNEY, ESQ. ON HIS PICTURE OF ME IN CRAYONS, DRAWN AT EARTHAM IN THE SIXTYFIRST YEAR OF MY AGE, AND IN THE MONTHS OF AUGUST AND SEPTEMBER, 1792. ROMNEY, expert infallibly to trace On chart or canvas, not the form alone Well; I am satisfied it should be so, Since, on maturer thought, the cause is clear; 1792. AN EPITAPH. HERE lies one who never drew Would advance, present, and fire. EPITAPH ON "FOP," A DOG BELONGING TO LADY THROCKMORTON. THOUGH once a puppy, and though Fop by name, And though no hound, a martyr to the chase. 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. ON RECEIVING HAYLEY'S PICTURE. IN language warm as could be breathed or penned, January, 1793. TO HIS COUSIN, LADY HESKETH. REASONS WHY HE COULD NOT WRITE HER A GOOD LETTER. Feb. 10, 1793. My pens are all split, and my ink-glass is dry; EPITAPH ON MR. CHESTER, OF CHICHELY. TEARS flow, and cease not, where the good man lies, ON A PLANT OF VIRGIN'S BOWER, DESIGNED TO COVER A GARDEN-SEAT. THRIVE, gentle plant! and weave a bower And deck with many a splendid flower Thou camest from Eartham, and wilt shade Some future day the illustrious head Of him who made thee mine. Should Daphne show a jealous frown, Thy cause with zeal we shall defend, For why should not the Virgin's Friend Spring of 1793. TO MY COUSIN, ANNE BODHAM, ON RECEIVING FROM HER A NETWORK PURSE MADE BY HERSELF. My gentle Anne, whom heretofore, Than plaything for a nurse, I danced and fondled on my knee, Gold pays the worth of all things here; May 4, 1793. The best things kept within it. TO A YOUNG FRIEND, ON HIS ARRIVING AT CAMBRIDGE WET WHEN NO RAIN HAD FALLEN THERE. IF Gideon's fleece, which drenched with dew he found, While moisture none refreshed the herbs around, Might fitly represent the Church endowed With heavenly gifts to heathens not allowed; In pledge, perhaps, of favours from on high, Thy locks were wet when others' locks were dry. Heaven grant us half the omen,—may we see Not drought on others, but much dew on thee ! May, 1793. INSCRIPTION FOR A HERMITAGE IN THE AUTHOR'S GARDEN. May, 1793. THIS cabin, Mary, in my sight appears, Preliminary to-the last retreat. TO MRS. UNWIN. MARY! I want a lyre with other strings, Such aid from Heaven as some have feigned they drew, And undebased by praise of meaner things, That, ere through age or woe I shed my wings, In verse as musical as thou art true, By seraphs writ with beams of heavenly light, A chronicle of actions just and bright: There all thy deeds, my faithful Mary, shine, And, since thou own'st that praise, I spare thee mine. May, 1793. TO JOHN JOHNSON, ON HIS PRESENTING ME WITH AN ANTIQUE BUST OF HOMER. KINSMAN beloved, and as a son, by me! The sculptured form of my old favourite bard, Joy too, and grief. Much joy that there should be INSCRIPTION FOR THE SAME BUST. Εἰκόνα τίς ταύτην ; κλυτὸν ἀνέρος οὔνομ ̓ ὄλωλεν. TRANSLATION BY THE AUTHOR. THE Sculptor?-Nameless, though once dear to fame. ON A PORTRAIT OF HIMSELF, (IN A LETTER TO HAYLEY.) ABBOT is painting me so true That (trust me) you would stare, THANKS FOR A PRESENT OF PHEASANTS. IN Copeman's ear this truth let Echo tell,- TO WILLIAM HAYLEY, ESQ. DEAR architect of fine CHATEAUX in air, |