Zephyr speaks; serener skies
Warm the glebe, and they arise.
We, alas! Earths haughty kings,
We, that promise mighty things,
Losing soon life's happy prime,
Droop, and fade, in little time.
Spring returns, but not our bloom,
Still 'tis winter in the tomb.
HERE Johnson lies-a sage by all allow'd,
Whom to have bred, may well make England proud
Whose prose was eloquence, by wisdom taught;
The graceful vehicle of virtuous thought;
Whose verse may claim-grave, masculine, and strong,
Superiour praise to the mere poet's song;
Who many a noble gift from Heav'n possess'd,
And faith at last, alone worth all the rest.
O man, immortal by a double prize,
By fame on earth-by glory in the skies!
TO MISS C, ON HER BIRTH-DAY
How many between east and west,
Disgrace their parent earth,
Whose deeds constrain us to detest
The day that give them birth '
Not so when Stella's natal morn
Revolving months restore,
We can rejoice that she was born,
And wish her born once more
THIS cap, that so stately appears,
With riband-bound tassel on high,
Which seems by the crest that it rears
Ambitious of brushing the sky:
cap to my cousin I owe,
She gave it, and gave me beside, Wreath'd into an elegant bow,
The riband with which it is tied.
This wheel-footed studying chair,
Contriv'd both for toil and repose,
Wide-elbow'd and wadded with hair,
In which I both scribble and doze,
Bright-studded to dazzle the eyes,
And rival in lustre of that
In which, or astronomy lies,
Fair Cassiopeia sat:
These carpets, so soft to the foot,
Caledonia's traffick and pride,
Oh, spare them, ye knights of the boot
Escaped from a cross-country ride!
This table and mirror within,
Secure from collision and dust,
At which I oft shave cheek and chin
And periwig nicely adjust ·
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This moveable structure of shelves,
For its beauty admired, and its use,
And charged with octavos and twelves,
The gayest I had to produce.
Where, flaming in scarlet and gold,
My poems enchanted I view,
And hope, in due time to behold
My Iliad and Odyssey too:
This china, that decks the alcove,
Which here people call a buffet,
But what the gods call it above,
Has ne'er been reveal'd to us yet;
These curtains, that keep the room warm
Or cool, as the season demands,
These stoves that for pattern and form,
Seem the labour of Mulçiber's hands:
All these are not half that I owe
To one, from her earliest youth
To me ever ready to show
Benignity, friendship, and truth;
For time, the destroyer declar'd
And foo of our perishing kind,
If even her face he has spar'd,
Much less could he alter her mind.,
Thus compass'd about with the goods
And chattels of leisure and ease,
I indulge my poetical moods,
In many such fancies as these;
And fancies I fear they will seem
Poets' goods are not often so fine;
The poets will swear that I dream,
When I sing of the splendour of mine
WHEN a bar of pure silver, or ingot of gold,
's sent to be flatted or wrought into length,
It is pass'd between cylinders often, and roll'd
In an engine of utmost mechanical strength.
Thus tortur'd and squeezed, at last it appears
Like a loose heap of riband, a glittering show,
Like musick it tinkles and rings in your ears,
And, warm'd by the pressure, is all in a glow.
This process achieved, it is doom'd to sustain
The thump-after-thump-of a gold-beater's mallet,
And at last is of service in sickness or pain
To cover a pill for a delicate palate.
Alas for the poet! who dares undertake
To urge reformation of national ill-
His head and his heart are both likely to ache
With the double employment of mallet and mill.
If he wish to instruct, he must learn to delight,
Smooth, ductile, and even, his fancy must flow,
Must tinkle and glitter like gold to the sight,
And catch in its progress a sensible glow.
After all, he must beat it as thin and as fine
As the lear that unfolds what an invalid swallows,
For truth is unwelcome, however divine,
And unless you adorn it, a nausea follows.
COMPOSED FOR A MEMORIAL OF
IMMEDIATELY AFTER HIS DEATH,
BY HIS NEPHEW, WILLIAM OF WESTON
FAREWELL! endued with all that could engage
All hearts to love thee, both in youth and age!
In prime of life, for sprightliness enroll'd
Among the gay, yet virtuous as the old ;
In life's last stage O blessings rarely found-
Pleasant as youth with all its blossoms crown'd;
Through every period of this changeful state,
Unchang'd thyself-wise, good, affectionate '
Marble may flatter; and lest this should seem O'ercharg'd with praises on so dear a theme, Although thy worth be more than half supprest, Love shall be satisfied, and veil the rest.
THE NIGHT OF THE 17th MARCH, 1789.
WHEN, long sequester'd from his throne,
George took his seat again,
By right of worth, not blood alone,
Entitled here to reign.
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