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IDEM LATINE REDDITUM.
Thou wast not heard with drowsy disregard,
Expending late on all that length of plea
Mute as e'er gaz'd on Orator or Bard.
Both heart and head; and could'st with music sweet
Of attic phrase and senatorial tone,
Thy fame diffuse, prais'd not for utt'rance meet.
IDEM LATINE REDDITUM.
POPULEÆ cecidit gratissima copia silvæ,
cogor silvis suetoque carere recessû,
Tam subitò periisse videns tam digna manere
LINES ON FRIENDSHIP.
IF every polish'd gem we find
Provoke to imitation,
Or rather constellation.
An acquisition rather rare,
Nor is it wise complaining,
We sought without attaining.
No friendship will abide the test
Or mean self-love erected ;
For vicious ends connected.
A man renown'd for repartee
With friendship's finest feeling;
Will thrust a dagger at your breast, And say he wounded you in jest,
By way of balm for healing.
A friendship that, in frequent fits
The sparks of disputation ;
The thought of conflagration.
The great and small but rarely meet
Plebeians must surrender
Obscurity with splendour.
As similarity of mind
First fixes our attention ;
Must save it from declension.
Some act upon this prudent plan,
Safe policy, but hateful
Unpleasant and ungrateful.
Pursue the search, and you will find
To be at least expedient,
A principal ingredient.
Though some have turn'd and turn'd it,
Have not, it seems, discern'd it.
EPITAPH ON A HARE.
HERE lies, whom hound did ne'er pursue,
Nor swifter greyhound follow, Whose foot ne'er tainted morning dew,
Nor e'er heard huntsman's hallo'.
Old Tiney, surliest of his kind,
Who, nurs’d with tender care, And to domestic bounds confin'd,
Was still a wild Jack-hare. Though duly from my hand he took
His pittance ev'ry night, He did it with a jealous look,
And when he could would bite.
His diet was of wheaten bread
And milk, and oats, and straw ; Thistles, or lettuces instead,
With sand to scour his maw.
On twigs of hawthorn he regal'd,
On pippins' russet peel,
Slic'd carrot pleas'd him well.
Whereon he lov'd to bound, To skip and gambol like a fawn,
And swing his rump around.
His frisking was at evening hours,
For then he lost his fear,
Or when a storm drew near.
Eight years and five round-rolling moons
He thus saw steal away, Dozing out all his idle noons,
And ev'ry night at play.
I kept him for his humour' sake,
For he would oft beguile My heart of thoughts that made it ache,
And force me to a smile.
beneath this walnut shade He finds his long, last home, VOL. 11.