Be envied, wretched and be flatter'd, poor; All luckless wits their enemies profest, And all successful, jealous friends at best. Oh! if the Muse must flatter lawless sway, And follow still where Fortune leads the way; But the fall'n ruins of another's fame Then teach me, Heaven! to scorn the guilty bays, Drive from my breast that wretched lust of praise; Unblemish'd let me live, or die unknown Oh, grant an honest fame, or grant me none!" A PASTORAL ELEGY, ON THE DEATH OF JACKSON, THE MUSICAL COMPOSER. O SHEPHERDS! 't is CORYDON's knell, That, sounding, now saddens the wind: When he bade us for ever farewell, He left not an equal behind. How often ye dwelt on his strain, That fill'd with sweet echoes the grove! How happy the nymphs of the plain, When he soften'd the bosom to love! Our garlands his tomb shall adorn; His shade shall our praises receive; The lark shall salute him at morn, And Philomel soothe him at eve. Near his ashes the myrtle shall bloom, Lament that such merit should die. He sought not false fame to obtain: Lo! his reed that lies mute on the ground,- ANACREONTIC. SYLVIA, a kiss or two I stole, That thrill'd me to the very soul: But, sooner than thou shalt complain, I'll place them on thy lips again, THE FIRE - SIDE. BY DR. COTTON. DEAR CHLOE, while the busy crowd, The vain, the wealthy, and the proud, In Folly's maze advance; Tho' singularity and pride Be call'd our choice, we 'll step aside, Nor join the giddy dance. From the gay world we 'll oft retire To our own family and fire, Where love our hours employs ; No noisy neighbour enters here, No intermeddling stranger near, To spoil our heart-felt joys. If solid happiness we prize, Within our breast this jewel lies; And they are fools who roam: The world has nothing to bestow; From our own selves our joys must flow, And that dear hut, our home. Of rest was NOAH's dove bereft, Giving her vain excursion o'er, The disappointed bird once more Tho' fools spurn HYMEN's gentle pow'rs, We, who improve his golden hours, By sweet experience know, That marriage, rightly understood, A Paradise below. Our babes shall richest comforts bring; If tutor'd right, they'll prove a spring Whence pleasures ever rise: D |