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FOR

THE TOMB

or

Mr., H A MI L T O N.

Pause here, and think: a monitory rhime.
Demands one moment of thy fleeting time.

Consult life's silent clock, thy bounding vein ;
Seems it to fay~" Health here has long to reign?"
Haft thou the vigour of thy youth? an eye
That beams delight? an heart untaught to figh?
Yet fear. Youth, ofttimes healthful and at ease,
Anticipates a day it never sees;
And many a tomb, like Hamilton's, aloud
Exclaims, “ Prepare thee for an early shroud."

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, surlieft of his kind,

Who, nursed with tender care, And to domestic bounds confined,

Was still a wild Jack-hare.

Though duly from my hand he took

His pittance every 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 fand to scour his maw.

On twigs of hawthorn he regaled,

On pippins' russet peel,
And, when his juicy salads failed,

Sliced carrot pleased him well.

A Turkey carpet was his lawn,

Whereon he loved to bound, To skip and gambol like a fawn,

And swing his rump around.

His frisking was at evening hours,

For then he loft his fear,
But moft before approaching showers,

Or when a storm drew near.

Eight years and five round-rolling moons

He thus faw steal away, Dozing out all his idle noons,

And every night at play.

I kept him for his humour' fake,
For he would oft beguile

heart of thoughts that made it ache, And force me to a smile.

But now beneath his walnut shade

He finds his long last home, And waits, in snug concealment laid,

Till gentler Puss shall come.

He, ftill more aged, feels the shocks,

From which no care can save, And, partner once of Tiney's box,

Muft soon partake his grave.

EPITAPHIUM ALTERUM.

Hic etiam jacet,
Qui totum novennium vixit,

Puss.
Siste paulisper,
Qui præteriturus es,
Et tecum fic reputa-
Nunc neque canis venaticus,
Nec plumbum misfile,

Nec laqueus,
Nec imbres nimii,

Confecêre
Tamen mortuus eft

Et moriar ego..

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