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 fore-father DONNE, Seek heavenly wealth, and work for God alone! To the Rev. Mr. NEWTON, On his Return from Ramsgate. THAT Ocean you of late surveyed, You from the flood-controuling steep No longer such to you. To me, the waves that ceaseless broke Upon the dangerous coast, Hoarsely, and ominously, spoke Your sea of troubles you have past, I, tempest tossed, and wrecked at last, LOVE ABUSED. WHAT is there in the vale of life When friendship, love, and peace combine The stream, polluted, dark and dull, Complaints supply the zephyr's part, 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 EPITAPH On Mrs. M. HIGGINS, of Weston. LAURELS may flourish round the conqueror's tomb, But happiest they who win the world to come : Believers have a silent field to fight, And their exploits are veiled from human sight. They in some nook, where little known they dwell, To Count GRAVINA. On his translating the Author's Song on a Rose into My Rose, Gravina, blooms anew, INSCRIPTION For a Stone, erected at the sowing of a Groveof Oaks at Chillington, the Seat of Thomas Giffard, Esq. 1790. OTHER stones the æra tell When some feeble mortal fell; Of these hardy sons of earth. Which shall longest brave the sky, But the years that crumble me Spread the branch, dilate its size, Cherish honour, virtue, truth! Stone at heart, and cannot grow. INSCRIPTION For a Hermitage in the Author's Garden. THIS cabin, Mary, in my sight appears, STANZAS On the late indecent Liberties taken with the Remains of the great Milton.-Anno 1790. ME too, perchance, in future days, The sculptured stone shall show, |