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?

3

THANKS FOR A GIFT OF PHEASANTS.

IN Copeman's ear this truth let Echo tell:
“Immortal bards like mortal pheasants well,"
And when his clerkship's out, I wish him herds
Of golden clients, for his golden birds.

AN EPITAPH

ON A POINTER BELONGING TO SIR JOHN THROCKMORTON.

HERE lies one who never drew
Blood himself, yet many slew;
Gave the gun its aim, and figure

Made in field, yet ne'er pull'd trigger.

Arm❜d men have gladly made
Him their guide, and him obey'd;
At his signified desire

Would advance, present, and fire.
Stout he was, and large of limb,
Scores have fled at sight of him;
And to all this fame he rose
Only following his nose.
Neptune was he call'd; not he
Who controls the boisterous sea,
But of happier command,
Neptune of the furrow'd land ;

And, your wonder vain to shorten,
Pointer to Sir John Throckmorton.

ON RECEIVING HAYLEY'S PICTURE.

(January, 1793.)

In language warm as could be breath'd or penn'd
Thy picture speaks the original, my friend,

Not by those looks that indicate thy mind,
They only speak thee friend of all mankind;
Expression here more soothing still I see,
That friend of all a partial friend to me.

EPITAPH ON MR. CHESTER, OF CHICHELEY. (April, 1793.)

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.

TO MY COUSIN ANNE BODHAM,

ON RECEIVING FROM HER A NETWORK PURSE MADE BY HERSELF.

(May, 1793.)

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.

TO MRS. UNWIN.

(May, 1798.)

MARY! I want a lyre with other strings,
Such aid from heaven as some 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 verse as musical as thou art true,
And that immortalises whom it sings.
But thou hast little need. There is a book
By seraphs 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, since thou own'st that praise, I spare thee mine.

TO JOHN JOHNSON,* ESQ.,

ON HIS PRESENTING ME WITH AN ANTIQUE BUST OF HOMER.

(May, 1793.)

KINSMAN beloved, and as a son, by me!
When I behold the fruit of thy regard,

The sculptured form of my old favourite 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 some applause my bold attempt and hard,
Which others scorn: critics by courtesy.
The grief is this, that, sunk in Homer's mine,
I lose my precious years now soon to fail,
Handling his gold, which, howsoe'er it shine,

Proves dross when balanced in the Christian scale.
Be wiser thou;-like our forefather Donne,
Seek heavenly wealth, and work for God alone.

INSCRIBED ON THE BUST OF HOMER,

PRESENTED TO COWPER BY MR. JOHN JOHNSON, AND NOW
IN THE WILDERNESS AT WESTON.

Είκονα τις ταύτην ;—κλυτον άνερος όνομ' όλωλεν.
Ουνομα δ' ουτος ανηρ αφθιτον αἶεν εχει.

THE sculptor P-nameless, though once dear to fame;
But This Man bears an everlasting name.

The grandson of Cowper's uncle. He cheered the last years of the poet.

TO A YOUNG FRIEND,

ON HIS ARRIVING AT CAMBRIDGE WET WHEN NO RAIN HAD FALLEN THERE.
IF Gideon's fleece, which drench'd with dew he found,
While moisture none refresh'd the herbs around,
Might fitly represent the church, endow'd
With heavenly gifts to heathens not allow'd;
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!

INSCRIPTION FOR A HERMITAGE IN THE
AUTHOR'S GARDEN.

(May, 1793.)

THIS cabin, Mary, in my sight appears,
Built as it has been in our waning years,
A rest afforded to our weary feet,
Preliminary to-the last retreat.

INSCRIPTION FOR A MOSS-HOUSE IN THE
SHRUBBERY AT WESTON.

HERE, free from riot's hated noise,
Be mine, the calmer, purer joys

A friend or book bestows;

Far from the storms that shake the great,
Contentment's gale shall fan my seat,
And sweeten my repose.

INSCRIPTION FOR A GARDEN SHED,

BUILT IN A FAR MORE EXPENSIVE WAY THAN WAS DESIGNED.

BEWARE of building! I intended

Rough logs and thatch, and thus it ended.

EPIGRAM ON THE SAME CIRCUMSTANCE.*

INSTEAD of a pound or two, spending a mint,
Must serve me at least, I believe, with a hint,
That building and building a man may be driven
At last out of doors, and have no house to live in.

ON ABBOTT'S PORTRAIT OF HIM;

ADDRESSED TO HAYLEY.

(July 15, 1792.)

ABBOTT is painting me so true,
That (trust me) you would stare,
And hardly know at the first view,
If I were here or there.

THE FOUR AGES.

(A BRIEF FRAGMENT OF AN EXTENSIVE PROJECTED POEM.)

'I COULD be well content, allow'd the use

Of past experience, and the wisdom glean'd

From worn-out follies, now acknowledged such,

To recommence life's trial, in the hope

Of fewer errors, on a second proof!"

Thus while grey evening lull'd the wind, and call'd

Fresh odours from the shrubbery at my side,

Taking my lonely winding walk, I mused,

And held accustom'd conference with my heart;

When from within it thus a voice replied:

"Couldst thou in truth? and art thou taught at length This wisdom, and but this, from all the past?

Is not the pardon of thy long arrear,

Time wasted, violated laws, abuse

* Cowper thus explains the inscription in a letter to Hayley, July 24, 1793.-" I said to my Sam: Sam, build me a shed in the garden, with anything that you can find, and make it rude and rough, like one of those at Eartham.' 'Yes, sir,' says Sam; and straightway laying his own noddle, and the carpenter's noddle together, has built me a thing fit for Stow Gardens."