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On some fond breast the parting soul relies,
Some pious drops the closing eye requires;
Even from the tomb the voice of Nature cries,
Even in our ashes live their wonted fires.

For thee, who, mindful of the unhonoured dead,
Dost 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 say :
"Oft have we seen him at the peep of dawn
Brushing with hasty steps the dews away,
To meet the sun upon the upland lawn.
"There at the foot of yonder nodding beech,
That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high,
His listless length at noontide would he stretch,
And pore upon the brook that babbles by.
"Hard by yon wood, now smiling as in scorn,
Muttering his wayward fancies he would rove;
Now drooping, woful, wan, like one forlorn,

Or crazed with care, or crossed in hopeless love.

"One morn I missed him on the 'customed hill, Along the heath and near his favourite tree; Another came; nor yet beside the rill,

Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he.

"The next, with dirges due in sad array,

Slow through the churchway path we saw him borne; Approach and read-for thou canst read-the lay Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn."

THE EPITAPH.

Here rests his head upon the lap of Earth,
A Youth, to Fortune and to Fame unknown;
Fair Science frowned not on his humble birth,
And Melancholy marked him for her own.
Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere,

Heaven did a recompense as largely send:

He gave to Misery all he had-a tear!

He gained from Heaven-'twas all he wished-a friend.

No further seek his merits to disclose,

Or draw his frailties from their dread abode-
There they alike in trembling hope repose--
The bosom of his Father and his God.

James Merrick.

Born 1720

Died 1766

A DIVINE and poet, born at Reading. He published poems on sacred subjects, and some miscellaneous pieces.

THE NUNC DIMITTIS.

'Tis enough-the hour is come:
Now within the silent tomb
Let this mortal frame decay,
Mingled with its kindred clay;
Since thy mercies, oft of old
By thy choice seers foretold,
Faithful now and steadfast prove,
God of truth, and God of love!
Since at length my aged eye
Sees the day-spring from on high!
Son of righteousness, to thee,
Lo! the nations bow the knee;
And the realms of distant kings
Own the healing of thy wings.
Those who death had overspread
With his dark and dreary shade,
Lift their eyes, and from afar
Hail the light of Jacob's Star;
Waiting till the promised ray
Turn their darkness into day.
See the beams intensely shed,
Shine o'er Sion's favour'd head!
Never may they hence remove,
God of truth, and God of love!

THE CHAMELEON.

OFT has it been my lot to mark
A proud, conceited, talking spark,
With eyes that hardly served at most
To guard their master 'gainst a post;

Yet round the world the blade has been,
To see whatever could be seen.
Returning from his finished tour,
Grown ten times perter than before;
Whatever word yon chance to drop,
The travelled fool your mouth will stop:
Sir, if my judgment you'll allow-
I've seen and sure I ought to know.”-
So begs you'd pay a due submission,
And acquiesce in his decision.

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Two travellers of such a cast, As o'er Arabia's wilds they passed, And on their way, in friendly chat, Now talked of this, and then of that; Discoursed awhile, 'mongst other matter, Of the chameleon's form and nature. A stranger animal," cries one, "Sure never lived beneath the sun: A lizard's body lean and long, A fish's head, a serpent's tongue, Its foot with triple claw disjoined; And what a length of tail behind! How slow its pace! and then its hue-Who ever saw so fine a blue?"

"Hold there," the other quick replies; ""Tis green-I saw it with these eyes, As late with open mouth it lay, And warmed it in the sunny ray; Stretched at its ease, the beast I viewed, And saw it eat the air for food."

"I've seen it, sir, as well as you,
And must again affirm it blue;
At leisure I the beast surveyed
Extended in the cooling shade."

""Tis green, 'tis green, sir, I assure ye.' 66 Green!" cries the other in a fury: "Why, sir, d'ye think I've lost my eyes!" ""Twere no great loss," the friend replies; "For if they always serve you thus, You'll find them but of little use.' So high at last the contest rose, From words they almost came to blows:

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When luckily came by a third;
To him the question they referred:
And begged he'd tell them, if he knew,
Whether the thing was green or blue.

"Sirs," cries the umpire, " cease your pother;
The creature's neither one nor t' other.
I caught the animal last night,
And viewed it o'er by candlelight :
I marked it well; 'twas black as jet-
You stare-but, sirs, I've got it yet,
And can produce it."-"Pray, sir, do;
I'll lay my life the thing is blue."
"And I'll be sworn, that when you've seen
The reptile, you'll pronounce him green."
"Well, then, at once to ease the doubt,"
Replies the man, "I'll turn him out:
And when before your eyes I've set him,
If you don't find him black, I'll eat him."
He said; and full before their sight
Produced the beast, and lo!-'twas white.
Both stared; the man looked wondrous wise..
"My children," the Chameleon cries-
Then first the creature found a tongue-
"You all are right, and all are wrong:
When next you talk of what you view,
Think others see as well as you:

Nor wonder if you find that none
Prefers your eyesight to his own."

Mark Akenside.

Born 1721.

Died 1770.

AKENSIDE was born at Newcastle-on-Tyne in 1721, of humble but respectable origin. His parents were Dissenters, and intended him for the Church. They sent him to the divinity classes in the Edinburgh University, but his tastes not lying in that direction, he afterwards changed them for those of medicine. In Edinburgh he wrote his poem, "Hymn to Science." Akenside finished his medical education at Leyden, where he took his degree of M.D. in his twenty-third year. In the same year was published his greatest poem, "The Pleasures of Imagination." for which he received from Dodsley, the publisher, L.120 for the copy. right. The work had a rapid sale, and is the basis of his fame. He afterwards published a satire and a collection of odes. He died in 1770. in his forty-ninth year.

GOD'S EXCELLENCE.

(From "Pleasures of Imagination.")

FROM heaven my strains begin; from heaven descends The flame of genius to the human breast,

And love, and beauty, and poetic joy,

And inspiration. Ere the radiant sun

Sprang from the east, or 'mid the vault of night
The moon suspended her serener lamp;

Ere mountains, woods, or streams, adorned the globe,
Or Wisdom taught the sons of men her lore,
Then lived the Almighty One; then deep retired
In his unfathomed essence, viewed the forms,
The forms eternal, of created things:

The radiant sun, the moon's nocturnal lamp,
The mountains, woods, and streams, the rolling globe,
And Wisdom's mien celestial. From the first
Of days on them his love divine he fixed,
His admiration, till, in time complete,

What he admired and loved his vital smile
Unfolded into being.

Hence the breath
Of life informing each organic frame,

Hence the green earth, and wild resounding waves,
Hence light and shade alternate, warmth and cold,
And clear autumnal skies and vernal showers,
And all the fair variety of things.

A CULTIVATED TASTE

OH! blest of heaven, whom not the languid songs Of Luxury, the syren! not the bribes

Of sordid Wealth, nor all the gaudy spoils

Of pageant Honour, can seduce to leave

Those ever-blooming sweets, which, from the store
Of nature, fair Imagination culls,

To charm the enlivened soul! What though not all
Of mortal offspring can attain the heights
Of envied life; though only few possess
Patrician treasures, or imperial state;
Yet Nature's care, to all her children just,
With richer treasures, and an ampler state.
Endows at large whatever happy man

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