I make no apology for the introduction of the following lines, though I have never learned who wrote them. Their elegance will sufficiently recommend them to persons of classical taste and erudition, and I shall be happy if the English version that they have received from me, be found not to dishonour them. Affection for the memory of the worthy man whom they celebrate, alone prompted me to this endeavour.

W. COWPER.

VERSES

ΤΟ

THE MEMORY OF DR. LLOYD,

SPOKEN AT THE WESTMINSTER ELECTION NEXT AFTER

HIS DECEASE.

ABIIT senex! periit senex amabilis !

Quo non fuit jucundior.
Lugete vos, ætas quibus maturior

Senem colendum præstitit,

Seu quando, viribus valentioribus

Firmoque fretus pectore,

Florentiori vos juventute excoleus
Curâ fovebat patriâ,

Seu quando fractus, jamque donatus rude,
Vultu sed usque blandulo,

Miscere gaudebat suas facetias
His annuis leporibus.

Vixit probus, purâque simplex indole,
Blandisque comis moribus,

Et dives æquâ mente-charus omnibus;
Unius auctus munere.

*

Ite tituli! meritis beatioribus

Aptate laudes debitas!

Nec invidebat ille, si quibus favens
Fortuna plus arriserat.
Placide senex! levi quiescas cespite,
Etsi superbum nec vivo tibi

Decus sit inditum, nec mortuo
Lapis notatus nomine.

THE SAME IN ENGLISH.

OUR good old friend is gone, gone to his rest,
Whose social converse was, itself, a feast.
O ye of riper age, who recollect

How once ye loved, and eyed him with respect,
Both in the firmness of his better day,

While yet he ruled you with a father's sway,

He was usher and under-master of Westminster near fifty years, and retired from his occupation when he was near seventy, with a handsome pension from the King.

And when, impair'd by time, and glad to rest,
Yet still with looks in mild complacence drest,
He took his annual seat, and mingled here
His sprightly vein with yours-now drop a tear.
In morals blameless as in manners meek,
He knew no wish that he might blush to speak,
But, happy in whatever state below,

And richer than the rich in being so,

Obtain'd the hearts of all, and such a meed

At length from One,

*

as made him rich indeed.

Hence, then, ye titles, hence, not wanted here,
Go, garnish merit in a brighter sphere,
The brows of those whose more exalted lot
He could congratulate, but envied not.

Light lie the turf, good Senior! on thy breast,
And, tranquil as thy mind was, be thy rest!
Tho' living, thou hadst more desert than fame,
And not a stone, now, chronicles thy name.

TO MRS. THROCKMORTON,

ON

HER BEAUTIFUL TRANSCRIPT OF HORACE'S ODE,

AD LIBRUM SUUM.

[February, 1790.]

MARIA, Could Horace have guess'd

What honour awaited his ode,

See the note in the Latin copy.

To his own little volume address'd,

The honour which you have bestow,
Who have traced it in characters here
So elegant, even and neat,

He had laugh'd at the critical sneer

Which he seems to have trembled to meet.

And sneer if you please he had said,

A nymph shall hereafter arise,

Who shall give me, when you are all dead,.
The glory your malice denies.

Shall dignity give to my lay,

Although but a mere bagatelle;

And even a poet shall say,

Nothing ever was written so well,

INSCRIPTION

For a Stone erected at the Sowing of a Grove of Oaks at Chillington, the Seat of T. Giffard, Esq.

1790.

[June, 1790.]

OTHER stones the era tell,
When some feeble mortal fell;
I stand here to date the birth
Of these hardy sons of Earth.

Which shall longest brave the sky,
Storm and frost-these oaks or I?

Pass an age or two away,

I must moulder and decay,
But the years that crumble me
Shall invigorate the tree,

Spread its branch, dilate its size,
Lift its summit to the skies.

Cherish honour, virtue, truth,
So shalt thou prolong thy youth.
Wanting these, however fast
Man be fixt, and form'd to last,
He is lifeless even now,

Stone at heart, and cannot grow.

ANOTHER,

For a Stone erected on a similar occasion at the same place in the following year.

[June, 1790.]

READER! Behold a monument

That asks no sigh or tear,

Though it perpetuate the event
Of a great burial here.

Anno 1791.