SONNET In the Hermitage at Wrest in Bedfordshire. STRANGER, or guest, whome'er this hallow'd grove Shall chance receive, where sweet contentment dwells, Bring here no heart that with ambition swells, With av'rice pines, or burns with lawless love. Vain tainted souls will all in vain remove To sylvan shades, and hermit's peaceful cells; In vain will seek Retirement's lenient spells, Or hope that bliss which only good men prove. If heav'n-born Truth and sacred Virtue's lore, Are constant inmates of thy honest breast; If, unrepining at thy neighbour's store, Thou count'st as thine the good of all mankind, Then welcome share the friendly groves of Wrest. T. E. Esq. EPIGRAM. WH HEN George was poor, the youth was gay and free, Of late he's grown brim full of pride and pelf; You wonder that he do'nt remember me, Why so? you see he has forgot himself. TO A PIPE OF OLD PORT. AN IMITATION OF HORACE, ODE 21, LIB. 3. Ad Amphoram. OH! hallow'd cask of virtues rare, Or rouse to rage the heated breast; In fond, oblivious, balmy sleep? I'll broach this night your latent hoard, For Towers this night will grace my board; And he well skill'd, as I opine, Loves mellow Lusitanian wine; Tho' stern in Freedom's glorious cause, He'll not, I'm sure, your gifts deride, Pray what made Young of Newton treat? In playful mirth, each rugged sage; If chance the martial file he meets, 'Gainst which he rests, nor moves a foot, English Chronicle. INSCRIPTION UNDER AN HOUR-GLASS, IN A GROTTO NEAR THE WATER. THIS bubbling stream not uninstructive flows, Each flower it feeds that on its margin grows, Nor void of moral, tho' unheeded glides THE DREAM. AN ODE. COME, gentle god of soft repose, The cares that rack my pensive breast. Arise, ye dear deceits, arise, And drest in Damon's manly form, My long expecting, wishing eyes, Q. L. Those melting sounds still let me hear, Why rove my thoughts on fancy'd bliss, The envious light from my sad eyes, Since waking, then, I am distrest, If sleeping, I can still be blest, Let life be all one blissful Dream! By a young Lady, aged 15. BREVIS ESSE LABORO. TRANSLATED. In a suit of three years, for three pinches of snuff, Here's a brief of three yards, and that's brief enough. Anonymous. |