To purchase heav'n has gold the power? With science tread the wondrous way, In social hours indulge thy soul, Where mirth and temp'rance mix the bowl; To virtuous love resign thy breast, And be, by blessing beauty-blest. Thus taste the feast, by nature spread, Ere youth, and all its joys are fled; Come, taste with me the balm of life, Secure from pomp, and wealth, and strife. I boast whate'er for man was meant, In health, and Stella, and content; And scorn! oh! let that scorn be thine! Mere things of clay that dig the mine. STELLA IN MOURNING. WHEN lately Stella's form display'd The nymphs, who found their pow'r decline, Since Stella still extends her reign, Ah! how shall envy sooth her pain? Th' adoring youth and envious fair, The skies" That Stella mourn no more." TO STELLA. NOT the soft sighs of vernal gales, Not all the gems on India's shore, Yet nature's charms allure my eyes, And, lovely Stella! thou art mine. VERSES, WRITTEN AT THE REQUEST OF A GENTLEMAN, TO WHAT hopes, what terrours, does thy gift create! h These verses were first printed in the Gentleman's Magazine for 1768, p. 439, but were written many years carlier. Elegant as they are, Dr. Johnson assured me, they were composed in the short space of five minutes.-N. The myrtle (ensign of supreme command, TO LADY FIREBRACE. AT BURY ASSIZES. AT length, must Suffolk beauties shine in vain, TO LYCE, AN ELDERLY LADY. YE nymphs, whom starry rays invest, By flatt'ring poets given; In all the pomp of heaven; This lady was Bridget, third daughter of Philip Bacon, esq. of Ipswich, and relict of Philip Evers, esq. of that town. She became the second wife of sir Cordell Firebrace, the last baronet of that name, to whom she brought a fortune of £25,000, July 26, 1737. Being again left a widow, in 1759, she was a third time married, April 7, 1762, to William Campbell, esq. uncle to the late duke of Argyle, and died July 3, 1782. VOL. I. K Engross not all the beams on high, Her silver locks display the moon, Strip'd rainbows round her eyes are seen, Her teeth the night with darkness dies, But some Zelinda, while I sing, Yet, spite of fair Zelinda's eye, ON THE DEATH OF MR. ROBERT LEVET, A PRACTISER IN PHYSICK. CONDEMN'D to hope's delusive mine, Our social comforts drop away. * These stanzas, to adopt the words of Dr. Drake, "are warm from the heart; and this is the only poem, from the pen of Johnson, that has been bathed with tears." Levet was Johnson's constant and attentive companion, for near forty years; he was a practitioner in physic, among the lower class of people, Well try'd, through many a varying year, Of ev'ry friendless name the friend. Yet still he fills affection's eye, When fainting nature call'd for aid, The pow'r of art, without the show. In mis'ry's darkest cavern known, Where hopeless anguish pour'd his groan, No summons, mock'd by chill delay, The toil of ev'ry day supply'd. His virtues walk'd their narrow round, The busy day--the peaceful night, His frame was firm-his pow'rs were bright, in London. Humanity, rather than desire of gain, seems to have actuated this single hearted and amiable being; and never were the virtues of charity recorded in more touching strains. "I am acquainted," says Dr. Drake, "with nothing superior to them in the productions of the moral muse." See Drake's Literary Life of Johnson; and Boswell, i. ii. iii. iv.—Ev. |