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Who trample order; and the day,
Which God asserts his own, Dishonour with unhallow'd play,
And worship chance alone?
If scorn of God's commands, impress’d
On word and deed, imply
With life that cannot die;
Such want it, and that want, uncur'd
Till man resigns his breath, Speaks him a criminal, assur’d
Of everlasting death.
Sad period to a pleasant course!
And mercy cast away.
FOR THE TOMB OF
Pause here, and think: a monitory rhime
Consult life's silent clock, thy bounding vein; Seems it to say--"Health here has long to reign?" Hast thou the vigour of thy youth? an eye That beams delight? a heart untaught to sigh? 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.” 10
EPITAPH ON A HARE.
Here lies, whom hound did ne'er pursue,
Nor swifter greyhound follow, Whose foot ne'er tainted morning dew,
Nor ear heard huntsman's halloo,
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 regald,
On pippins' russet peel,
Slic'd carrot pleas'd him well.
A Turkey carpet was his lawn,
Whereon he lov’d to bound, To skip and gambol like a fawn,
And swing his rump around.
His frisking was at ev’ning 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's sake,
For he would oft beguile
And force me to a smile.
But now beneath his walnut shade
He finds his long last home,
Till gentler Puss shall come.
He still more aged feels the shocks,
From which no care can save, And, partner once of Tiney's box,
Must soon partake his grave.