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Their name, their years, spelt by th' unletter'd Muse,
The place of fame and elegy supply:
And many a holy text around she strews,
That teach the rustic moralist to dye.

For who to dumb Forgetfulness a prey,
This pleasing anxious being e'er refign'd,
Left the warm precincts of the chearful day,
Nor cast one longing ling'ring look behind ?

On some fond breast the parting soul relies,
Some pious drops the closing eye requires ;
Ev'n from the tomb the voice of Nature cries,
Ev'n in our Ashes live their wonted Fires.

For thee, who mindful of th' unhonour'd Dead
Doit in these lines their artless tale relate ;
If chance, by lonely Contemplation led,
Some kindred Spirit shall inquire thy fate,

Haply some hoary-headed Swain may fay,
• Oft have we seen him at the peep of dawn

Brushing with hafty steps the dews away To meet the sun upon the upland land.


There at the foot of yonder nodding beech
« That wreathes its old fantastick roots so high,

His listless length at noon-tide wou'd he stretch,
pore upon the brook that babbles by.

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• Hard by yon wood, now smiling as in fcorn,
* Mutt'ring his wayward fancies he wou'd rove;
• Now drooping, woeful wan, like one forlorn,
• Or craz'd with care, or cross'd in hopeless love.

• One morn I miss’d him on the custom'd hill,

Along the heath and near his fav’rite tree; • Another came; nor yet beside the rill, • Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he,

« The next with dirges due in fad array • Slow through the church-way path we saw him born,

Approach and read (for thou can't read) the lay, • Glav'd on the stone beneath yon aged thorn.

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TERE refts his head upon the lap of Earth,

A Youth to Fortune and to Fame unknown, Fair Science frown'd not on his humble birth, And Melancholy mark'd him for her own.

Large rvas his bounty, and his foul sincere,
Heav'n did a recompence as largely send :
He gave to Mis’ry all he had, a tear,
He gain'd from Heav'n ('twas all he wist'd) a friend.

No farther seek his merits to disclose,
Or draw his frailties from their dread abode,
(There they alike in trembling hepe repose)
The bosom of his Father and his God.




By the Same.
AUGHTER of Jove, relentless Power,

Thou Tamer of the human breast,
Whose iron fcourge and tort'ring hour

The Bad affright, amict the Best!
Bound in thy adamantine chain
The Proud are taught to taste of pain,

And purple tyrants vainly groan
With pangs unfelt before, unpitied and alone,

When first thy Sire to send on earth

Virtue, his darling Child, design’d, To thee he gave the heav'nly Birth,

And bad to form her infant mind.
Stern rugged Nurse! thy rigid lore
With patience many a year she bore :

What sorrow was, thou bad'It her know,
And from her own she learn’d to melt at others' woe.

Scared at thy frown terrific, fly

Self-pleasing Folly's idle brood,
Wild Laughter, Noise, and thoughtless Joy,

And leave us leisure to be good.
Light they disperse, and with them go
The summer Friend, the flatt'ring Foe;

By vain Prosperity received,
To her they vow their truth, and are again believed.



Wisdom in fable garb array'd,

Immers'd in rapt'rous thought profound,
And Melancholy, filent maid

With leaden eye, that loves the ground,
Still on thy solemn steps attend:
Warm Charity, the gen'ral friend,

With justice to herself severe,
And Pity, dropping soft the fadly-pleasing tear.

Oh! gently on thy Suppliant's head,

Dread Goddess, lay thy chaft'ning hand ! Not in thy Gorgon terrors clad,

Nor circled with the vengeful Band (As by the Impious thou art feen) With thund'ring voice, and threat'ning mien,

With screaming Horror's funeral cry, Despair, and fell Disease, and ghastly Poverty.

Thy form benign, oh Goddess, wear,

Thy milder influence impart, Thy philofophic Train be there

To soften, not to wound my heart, The gen'rous fpark extinct revive, Teach me to love, and to forgive,

Exact my own defects to scan, What others are to feel, and know myself a man.





Written in Imitation of the Style and Manner of

SPENSE R's · FAIRY QUE E N. Inscribed to Lady LANGHAM, Widow of Sir JOHN


By GILBERT WEST, Efq; Unum ftudium vere liberale eft, quod liberum facit. Hoc

Sapientia ftudium est, sublime, forte, magnani nun : cetera pufilla & puerilia sunt.--Plus fcire velle quàm fit fatis intemperantiæ genus eft. Quid, quòd ifta liberalium artium confectatio molestos, verbofosys intempestivos, fibi placentes facit, & ideo non dicentes necesaria, quia pervacua didicerunt.

Sen. Ep. 88.


Goodly Discipline! from heav'n y-sprong !

Parent of Science, queen of Arts refin'd!
To whom the Graces, and the Nine belong :
O! bid those Graces, in fair chorus join'd

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