On some fond breast the parting soul relies, For thee, who, mindful of the unhonoured dead, Some kindred spirit shall inquire thy fate; Haply some hoary-headed swain may say : 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, 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- 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: THE CHAMELEON. OFT has it been my lot to mark Yet round the world the blade has been, 66 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, ""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: When luckily came by a third; "Sirs," cries the umpire, " cease your pother; Nor wonder if you find that none 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 Ere mountains, woods, or streams, adorned the globe, The radiant sun, the moon's nocturnal lamp, What he admired and loved his vital smile Hence the breath Hence the green earth, and wild resounding waves, 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 To charm the enlivened soul! What though not all |