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<< If Heav'n with children crown your dwelling,
"As mine its bounty does with you, "In fondness fatherly excelling,
"Th' example you have felt pursue.”
He paus'd-for tenderly careffing
Now night, her mournful mantle spreading,
When back to city follies flying,
'Midst custom's flaves he liv'd refign'd, His face, array'd in fmiles, denying
The true complexion of his mind.
For feriously around furveying
Each character, in youth and age,
Of fools betray'd, and knaves betraying,
(Peaceful himself and undefigning)
He loath'd the scenes of guile and ftrife, And felt each fecret with inclining
To leave this fretful farce of life.
Yet to whate'er above was fated
For, what all-bounteous Heav'n created,
Occasioned by seeing the Graves dressed with Flowers, at Brecknock in Wales.
“WHITHER away, fair maid!” I cry'd,
As on old Hundy's bank I lay,
The fragrant bay, the mournful yew,
The red pink, and the primrose fair.
"And why that basket on your arm,
"To yonder church-yard do I haste,
"To dress the grave where Henry fleeps;
"No maid a truer lover blefs'd
"No maid more faithful lover weeps.
"Stern Death forbade us to unite,
"And cut him down with ruthless blow; "And now I fpeed to deck his grave,
"As 'tis our weekly wont to do.”
The melancholy custom pleas'd:
She left me wrapp'd in penfive thought; Ideas fad, but foothing, rofe,
When my flow steps the church-yard fought. There, kneeling o'er her Henry's grave, Adorn'd with all her basket's store,
The rural maiden, fighing, hung,
Her eyes with tender tears ran o'er.
She rais'd those eyes, fo full of tears,
Which now and then stole down her cheek And much to Heav'n fhe would have spoke, But forrow would not let her fpeak. Yet, though her thoughts could find no vent, There is, who reads each honest mind: And the true heart to Him devote,
Shall ample fatisfaction find.
Then, gentle maiden! do not fear,
Again thy Henry thou shalt meet:
Till then thy tender task pursue,
And ftrew thy greens and flow'rs so sweet.
And you, whom all around I fee,
The fame dear mournful task employ : Ye parents, children, hufbands, wives, The melancholy blifs enjoy!
Oh! 'tis delicious to maintain
Of friends deceas'd a due refpect! Then bring me flow'rets-bring me greens, Straight fhall my parents' grave be deck'd; And many a friend's (whom faithful love Still keeps alive within my breaft)
Luxuriously fad, I'll fee
With choieeft garlands weekly drefs'd.
Come, then, the wicker-basket bring;
A mellow tear of soothing woe,
Shall o'er the graves spontaneous fall ; While Heav'n the heart's ftill with fhall hear, And to each other grant us all.
TO A YOUNG NOBLEMAN LEAVING THE UNIVERSITY.
ERE yet, ingenuous youth, thy steps retire
From Cam's fmooth margin, and the peaceful vale,
O let thy friend (and may he boast the name!)
And this let voluntary friendship pay.
Yet know, the time arrives, the dang'rous time, When all thofe virtues, op'ning now so fair, Tranfplanted to the world's tempeftuous clime, Muft learn each paffion's boift'rous breath to bear;
There, if Ambition, peftilent and pale,
Or Luxury should taint their vernal glow;
Should blast th' unfolding bloffoms e'er they blow;
If mimic hues, by Art or Fashion spread,
Their genuine fimple colouring should fupply;
Then do not blame, if, though thyself inspire,
The Mufe full oft pursues a meteor fire,
And vainly vent'rous, foars on waxen wing:
Call we the shade of Fope from that blest bow'r,
When St. John's name illumin'd Glory's page.
The deathlefs meed he only could beflow:
He heaves a figh ainid the realms of reft.
If Pope through Friendhip fail'd, indignant view,