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SONNET,

ADDRESSED TO

WILLIAM HAYLEY, ESQ.

[June 2, 1792.]

HAYLEY-thy tenderness fraternal shown,

In our first interview, delightful guest!

To Mary and me for her dear sake distress'd,
Such as it is has made my heart thy own,
Though heedless now of new engagements grown;
For threescore winters make a wintry breast,
And I had purpos'd ne'er to go in quest
Of Friendship more, except with God alone.
But Thou hast won me; nor is God my Foe,
Who, ere this last afflictive scene began,

Sent Thee to mitigate the dreadful blow,
My Brother, by whose sympathy I know

Thy true deserts infallibly to scan,

Not more t' admire the Bard than love the Mau.

CATHARINA:

THE SECOND PART.

On her Marriage to George Courtenay, Esq.

[June 1792.]

BELIEVE it or not, as you chuse,
The doctrine is certainly true,
That the future is known to the muse,
And poets are oracles too.

I did but express a desire,

To see Catharina at home,

At the side of my friend George's fire,
And lo---she is actually come.

Such prophecy some may despise,
But the wish of a poet and friend

Perhaps is approv'd in the skies,

And therefore attains to its end. 'Twas a wish that fiew ardently forth

From a bosom effectually warm'd

With the talents, the graces, and worth
Of the person for whom it was form'd.

Maria would leave us, I knew,

To the grief and regret of us all,

* Lady Throckmorton.

But less to our grief, could we view
Catharina the Queen of the Hall.
And therefore I wish'd as I did,

And therefore this union of hands
Not a whisper was heard to forbid,
But all cry---A men--to the bans.

Since therefore I seem to incur
No danger of wishing in vain
When making good wishes for Her,
I will e'en to my wishes again---
With one I have made her a Wife,

And now I will try with another,

Which I cannot suppress for my life---
How soon I can make her a Mother.

AN EPITAPH.

[1792.]

HERE lies one, who never drew
Blood himself, yet many slew;
Gave the gun its aim, and figure
Made in field, yet ne'er pull'd trigger.

Armed men have gladly made

Him their guide, and him obey'd

At his signified desire,

Would advance, present, and Fire---
Stout he was, and large of limb,

Scores have fled at sight of him;

And to all this fame he rose
Only following his Nose.

Neptune was he call'd, not He
Who controls the boist'rous sea,
But of happier command,
Neptune of the furrow'd land;
And, your wonder vain to shorten,
Pointer to Sir John Throckmorton.

EPITAPH ON FOP,

A DOG BELONGING TO LADY THROCKMORTON.

[August 1792.]

THOUGH Once a puppy, and though Fop by name, Here moulders One whose bones some honor claim. No sycophant, although of spaniel race,

And though no hound, a martyr to the chace

Ye squirrels, rabbits, leverets, rejoice,

Your haunts no longer echo to his voice;
This record of his fate exulting view,
He died worn out with vain pursuit of you.

"Yes" the indignant shade of Fop replies"And worn with vain pursuit Man also dies."

U

SONNET

ΤΟ

GEORGE ROMNEY, ESQ.

ON

His picture of me in Crayons, drawn at Eartham in the 61st year of my age, and in the months of August and September 1792.

[October 1792.]

ROMNEY, expert infallibly to trace

On chart or canvas, not the form alone
And semblance, but, however faintly shown,
The mind's impression too on every face-
With strokes that time ought never to erase

Thou hast so pencill'd mine, that though I own
The subject worthless, I have never known

The artist shining with superior grace.

But this I mark-that symptoms none of wo
In thy incomparable work appear.
Well---I am satisfied it should be so,

Since, on maturer thought, the cause is clear;

For in my looks what sorrow couldst thou see
When I was Hayley's guest, and sat to Thee?

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