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OVER A

CALM AND CLEAR SPRING IN BLENHEIM GARDENS.

HERE quench your thirst, and mark in ME

An emblem of true Charity;

Who, while my bounty I bestow,
Am neither heard nor feen to flow.

Infcription, &c.] I have heard this infcription attributed to Dr. Phanuel Bacon, fellow of Magdalen College, author of the Kite, and of one or two pieces in the Oxford Saufage. A copy of the inscription, which a friend once thewed me in MS. has two additional lines:

Repaid by fresh fupplies from heav'n,
For every cup of water given.

I fince find the infcription mentioned as Dr. Bacon's in the Gentleman's Magazine for 1792; where the first line is, "Gentle reader, fee in me." The infertion of the Infcription in the edition of Warton's Poems in 1791, arranged by himself, and partly printed before his death, may be confidered as afcertaining him for the author.

EPITAPH

ON MR. HEAD.

Он

H spare his youth, O stay thy threat'ning hand, Nor break too foon young wedlock's early band! But if his gentle and ingenuous mind, The generous temper, and the taste refin'd, A foul unconscious of corruption's stain, If learning, wit, and genius plead in vain, O let the mourning Bride, to ftop thy fpear, Oppose the meek resistance of a tear! And when to footh thy force his virtues fail, Let weeping faith and widow'd love prevail!

TRANSLATIONS

AND

PARAPHRASES.

JOB,

CHAPTER XXXIX.

(Published in 1750, in the Student.)

DECLARE, if heav'nly wisdom bless thy

tongue,

When teems the Mountain-Goat with promis'd

young;

The stated seasons tell, the month explain,

When feels the bounding Hind a mother's pain; While, in th' oppreffive agonies of birth,

Silent they bow the forrowing head to earth? Why crop their lufty feed the verdant food? Why leave their dams to fearch the gloomy wood?

Say, whence the Wild-Afs wantons o'er the plain,

Sports uncontrol'd, unconscious of the rein?
'Tis his o'er fcenes of folitude to roam,
The wafte his house, the wilderness his home:
He fcorns the crowded city's pomp and noise,
Nor heeds the driver's rod, nor hears his voice;
At will on ev'ry various verdure fed,
His pafture o'er the fhaggy cliffs is spread.

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