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But all my wants, before I spoke,

Were to my mistress known;

She still reliev'd, nor sought my praise,
Contented with her own.

But every day her name I'll bless, Fast by that shore where Thames' translucent My morning prayer, my evening song, stream

I'll praise her while my life shall last,
Reflects new glories on his breast,

A life that cannot last me long.
Where, splendid as the youthful poet's dream,
He forms a scene beyond Elysium blest :

Where sculptur'd elegance and native grace

Each day, each hour, her name I'll bless, Unite to stamp the beauties of the place : My morning and my evening song, While, sweetly blending, still are seen

And when in death my vows shall cease,
The wavy lawn, the sloping green:

My children shall the note prolong.
While novelty, with cautious cunning,
Through every maze of fancy running,

From China borrows aid to deck the scene : The hardy veteran after struck the sight,
There sorrowing by the river's glassy bed, Scarr'd, mangld, maim'd in every part,
Forlorn, a rural bard complain'd,

Lopp'd of his limbs in many a gallant fight, All whom Augusra's bounty fed,

In nought entire-except his heart: All whom her clemency sustain'd;

Mute for a while, and sullenly distress'd,
The good old sire, unconscious of decay, At last the impetuous sorrow fir'd his breast.
The modest matron, clad in home-spun grey, Wild is the whirlwind rolling
The military boy, the orphan'd maid,

O'er Afric's sandy plain,
The shatter'd veteran, now first dismay'd; And wild the tempest howling
These sadly join beside the murmuring deep, Along the billow'd main :
And as they view the towers of Kew,

But every danger felt before,
Call on their mistress, now no more, and weep. The raging deep, the whirlwind's roar,

Less dreadful struck me with dismay,

Than what I feel this fatal day.
Ye shady walks, ye waving greens,

Oh, let me fly a land that spurns the brave, Ye nodding towers, ye fairy scenes,

Oswego's dreary shores shall be my grave; Let all your echoes now deplore,

I'll seek that less inhospitable coast, That she who form'd your beauties is no more.

And lay my body where my limbs were lost.

First of the train the patient rustic came,

Old Edward's sons, unknown to yield,
Whose callous hand had form’d the scene,

Shall crowd from Cressy's laurell'd field,
Bending at once with sorrow and with age, To do thy memory right:
With many a tear, and many a sigh between,

For thine and Britain's wrongs they feel, “ And wbere," he cried, “ shall now my babes Again they snatch the gleamy steel, have bread,

And wish the avenging fight.
Or how shall age support its feeble fire ?
No lord will take me now, my vigour fled,

Nor can my strength perform what they require: In innocence and youth complaining,
Each grudging master keeps the labourer bare,

Next appear'd a lovely maid, A sleek and idle race is all their care:

Affliction o'er each feature reigning, My noble mistress thought not so !

Kindly came in beauty's aid;
Her bounty, like the morning dew,

Every grace that grief dispenses,
Unseen, tho' constant, used to flow,
And as my strength decay'd, her bounty grew." Every glance that warms the soul,

In sweet succession charms the senses,
While pity harmoniz'd the whole. (say,)

The garland of beauty" ('tis thus she would In decent dress, and coarsely clean,

“No more shall my crook or my temples adorn, The pious matron next was seen,

I'll not wear a garland, AUGUSTA's away, Clasp'd in her hand a godly book was borne, I'll not wear a garland until she return: By use and daily meditation worn;

But alas ! that return I never shall see: That decent dress, this holy guide,

Theechoes of Thames shall my sorrows proclaim, AUGUSTA's care had well supply'd.

There promis'd a lover to come, but, oh me! And ah! she cries, all woe begone,

'Twas death,'twas the death of my mistress that What now remains for me? Oh! where shall weeping want repair

But ever, for ever, her image shall last, To ask for charity?

I'll strip all the Spring of its earliest bloom ; Too late in life for me to ask,

On her grave shall the cowslip and primrose be And shame prevents the deed,

cast, And tardy, tardy are the times

And the new-blossom'd thorn shall whiten her To succour, should I need






And there shall the cowslip and primrose be cast,

And the new-blossom'd thorn shall whiten her With garlands of beauty the queen of the May

tomb. No more will her crook or her temples adorn;

For who'd wear a garland when she is away,
When she is remoy'd, and shall never return,

On the grave of AUGUSTA this garland be plac'd,

We'll rifle the Spring of its earliest bloom, On the grave of AUGUSTA these garlands be And there shall the cowslip and primrose be cast, plac'd,

And the tears of her country shall water ter We'll rifle the Spring of its earliest bloom,


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THESE scanty materials are taken principally from Mr. Nichols's Life of Bow yer, and the Biographical Dictionary. To the former they were communi. cated, however sparingly, by the friends of Dr. Armstrong.

He was born in the parish of Castleton in Roxburghshire, where his father and brother were clergymen : and having compleated his education at the university of Edinburgh, took his degree in physic, Feb. 4, 1732', with much reputation. His thesis De Tabe purulente was published as usual.

He appears to have courted the Muses while a student: his descriptive sketch in imitation of Shakespeare was one of his first attempts, and received the cordial approbation of Thomson, Mallet, and Young. Mallet, he informs us, intended to have published it, but altered his mind. His other imitations of Shakespeare were part of an unfinished tragedy written at a very early age. Much of his time, if we may judge from his writings, was devoted to the study of polite literature, and although he cannot be said to have entered deeply into any particular branch, he was more than a superficial connoisseur in painting, statuary, and music.

At what time he came to London is uncertaio, but in 1735, he published an oc. tavo pamphlet, without his name, entitled An Essay for abridging the Study of Physic: to which is added a Dialogue between Hygeia, Mercury, and Pluto, relating to the Practice of Physic, as it is managed by a certain illustrious So. ciety. As also an Epistle from Usbeck the Persian, to Joshua Ward, esq. It is de. dicated to the "Antacademic Philosophers, to the generous despisers of the schools, to the deservedly-celebrated Joshua Ward, John Moor, and the rest of the nu. merous sect of inspired physicians." The Essay, which has been lately reprinted in Dilly's Repository, is an humourous attack on quacks and quackery, with al. lusions to the neglect of medical education among the practising apothecaries :

Three days after he sent a copy of his thesis to sir Hans Sloane, accompanied by a handsome Latin letter, now in the British Museum. I find in the same repository a paper written by him in 1744 on the alcalescent disposition of animal fluids, which appears to have been read in the Royal Society, but not published. C.

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