University of Virginia Library

OCCASIONAL AND MISCELLANEOUS PIECES.

INSCRIPTION On a Cenotaph erected by Sir William Draper, K. B. in his Garden at Clifton near Bristol.

This Cenotaph is sacred
to the Memory
Of those departed Warriors,
of the seventy-ninth regiment,
by whose deliberate Valour,
steady discipline, and perseverance,
The formidable and impetuous efforts
of the French Land forces in Asia
were first withstood, and repulsed;
Our Commerce preserved;
Our Settlements rescued from impending destruction.
The ever memorable defence of Madrass,
The decisive Battle of Wandewash,
Twelve strong and important Fortresses,
Three Capitals
Arcot, Pondicherry, Manilla,
The Philippine Islands,
are witnesses of their Victories,
that would have done honor
even to the Greek and Roman Name
in the most illustrious times of Antiquity,
and well deserve to be transmitted down
to latest Posterity,
that future Generations may hear
and imitate (for they cannot exceed)
Their Glorious Exploits.

EPITAPH On a Lady who died after a lingering Illness, and had earnestly prayed that her only Child might not survive her: The Child died a short time after its Mother.

Sweet Saint! on thee when pining sickness prey'd,
Thy beauty canker'd, and thy youth decay'd,
'Twas thine with patience meek, to Heav'n resign'd,
With Faith that arm'd, and Hope that cheer'd thy mind,
Death's ling'ring stroke undaunted to sustain
And spare thy pitying friend's and husband's pain,
Studious thy heartfelt anguish to disguise
From sympathizing Love's enquiring eyes!
'Tis mine to crown thy wish, reward thy worth,
To wean each fond, each yearning thought from earth;
And bring this much lov'd object of thy care,
Thy joys to perfect, and thy Heaven to share.—

TO A FRIEND, On the Loss of an amiable Daughter.

True, she was sweet, and lovely in thine eyes,
Like some fair flower that blooms awhile, and dies:
Yet O forbear thy heart-felt pangs to shew
In outward pageantry, and pomp of woe:
Say, shouldst thou bid the Parian marble rise,
To tell where innocence and beauty lies,
Aught could it sooth His grief, ill-fated youth!
To whose fond vows she pledg'd her virgin truth?
Thy generous boon to him best serves to prove
Thy manly sorrow, and paternal love,
Firmer than polish'd brass, or sculptur'd stone
Shall long preserve her Memory, and thine own

On the Occasion of the Duke of Northumberland's being detained at Bath by a return of his Disorder.

LINES Inscribed to the memory of Dr. Samuel Johnson, occasioned by reading Mrs. Piozzi's Anecdotes, Mr. Boswell's Tour to the Hebrides, &c. &c.

O! Johnson, learned, venerable shade,
What havock of thy fame hath friendship made,
What childish trophies round thy manly bust,
What noisome weeds are planted in thy dust!
Yet sleep in peace—and though to me unknown
(Save from the musick of thy learn'd renown)
Accept this verse, if aught my verse can boast
To sooth the anguish of thy injured Ghost.
What though thy friends, thy dearest friends, have tried,
To blaze those faults, which e'en thy foes would hide,
Though like a gem by some rude artist set,
We mark thy flaws, thy brilliancy forget,
Yet rest assured, when all their triumph's o'er,
Thy friends and enemies are known no more,
When time shall mould the sprightly works of Thrale,
And turn to vinegar her choicest ale,
When Boswell, of his birth and friendships proud,
Mac Lean, Mac Sweyn, Mac Cromheil, and Mac Cloud,
Indignant round the savoury steak shall fry,
Or light Mundungus in the Isle of Sky,
When Pindar too, Soame Jennyngs, and myself,
Shall lie, meet victims, on a grocer's shelf:
Still shalt thou last, and o'er thy hallow'd tomb,
Fair Science weep, and bays perennial bloom.

DEO OPT. MAX. VOTUM. C. P. Auctore.

On the Recovery of a young Lady by the use of the Cheltenham Waters.

With pining sickness worn, her beauty fled,
Hither my Charlotte's trembling steps I led;
Meek and resign'd, from this salubrious well
She drank, and on the cup a blessing fell!

From Macrobius, Saturn. 11. 7.

As circling ivy works the tree's decay,
Time's cold embraces steal my strength away,
Till like an empty tomb, my aged frame
Tells only what I was, and bears my name.

In Promptu, to a Lady enquiring the reason why Beards were not worn as in former times.

In Promptu, written in 1779.

A SONNET, WRITTEN IN THE YEAR 1795,

Occasioned by the late scarcity of Grain, and inscribed to the Author's three Periwigs, Malus, Pejor, and Pessimus.

Ah me! full sorely doth it rend my heart,
O! Pessimus, my veteran friend, to view
Thy time-worn front, and curls of yellow hue,
And think, how soon unpowder'd we must part!
And much it grieves me that thy brothers twain,
Malus and Pejor (both the offspring fair
Of Orchard's plastic hand) thy fate must share,
Nor graceful wave their mealy locks again!
Yet doth my soul a secret solace find,
(Such solace as the wise and patient know,
Who taste the blessings which from evils flow;)
That thou to Priapean head consign'd
Shalt scare voracious crows—and all un-flour'd
Protect the grain thy hungry caul devour'd.

From Martial.

You press me to drink your Champayn, and Tokay
By which you have poison'd four wives, as they say:
I ne'er can believe such a scandalous tale,
—So here's your good health, in a glass of your—ale.

On the Execution of Mr. Coyghley for High Treason.

Some wept, you say, when Coyghley was no more!
I wept, because he was not hang'd before.

Ad Gentem Gallicam Germani apud Anglos commorantis Deprecatio.

Ye doubtful race! whom apes and foxes bred,
And, drench'd with human gore, a tigress fed!
Mid your sad triumphs o'er your murder'd King,
While waste and death to Belgia's realms you bring;
Whether for love of Liberty, or frogs,
Ye wage foul combat in Hollandia's bogs,
Or grudge her sons their galligaskins wide,
Rich trophies! to your ragged chiefs denied;
Still naked, hungry still, awhile forbear
Your arms, and England's happy kingdom spare:—
If Liberty alone such rage inspires,
Here unremitting blaze her hallow'd fires:
Nor deem that empire harsh, those laws severe,
Where, in both senates, unrestrain'd by fear,
Her patriots dare, in these rebellious times,
To boast your friendships and applaud your crimes.

BRITAIN'S GENIUS; WRITTEN UPON THE OCCASION OF THE MUTINY AT THE NORE, 1797.

A SONG