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Where'er he dwells, he dwells alone,
Except himself has chattels none,
Well satisfied to be his own

Whole treasure.

Thus, hermit-like, his life he leads,
Nor partner of his banquet needs,
And if he meets one, only feeds

The faster.

Who seeks him must be worse than blind,
He and his house are so combined,

If, finding it, he fails to find

Its master.

NO SORROW PECULIAR TO THE SUFFERER

THE lover in melodious verses
His singular distress rehearses,
Still closing with a rueful cry,
"Was ever such a wretch as I?"
Yes! thousands have endured before
All thy distress; some haply more.
Unnumbered Corydons complain,
And Strephons, of the like disdain ·
And if thy Chloe be of steel,
Too deaf to hear, too hard to feel,
Not her alone that censure fits,
Nor thou alone hast lost thy wits.

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THE CANTAB

WITH two spurs, or one, and no great matter which,
Boots bought, or boots borrowed, a whip or a switch,
Five shillings or less for the hire of his beast,
Paid part into hand;-you must wait for the rest.
Thus equipt, Academicus climbs up his horse,
And out they both sally for better or worse;
His heart void of fear and as light as a feather;
And in violent haste to go not knowing whither:
Through the fields and the towns, see, he scampers along,
And is looked at and laughed at by old and by young.

Till at length overspent, and his sides smeared with blood,
Down tumbles his horse, man and all, in the mud.
In a waggon or chaise shall he finish his route?
Oh! scandalous fate! he must do it on foot.

Young gentlemen, hear !—I am older than you!
The advice that I give I have proved to be true :
Wherever your journey may be, never doubt it,
The faster you ride, you're the longer about it.

VERSES TO THE MEMORY OF DR. LLOYD*

SPOKEN AT THE WESTMINSTER ELECTION NEXT AFTER HIS DECEASE

ABIIT senex! periit senex amabilis !
Quo non fuit jucundior.
Lugete vos, ætas quibus maturior
Senem colendum præstitit;
Seu quando, viribus valentioribus
Firmoque fretus pectore,

Florentiori vos juventute excolens
Curâ fovebat patriâ ;

Seu quando, fractus, jamque donatus rude,
Vultu sed usque blandulo,

Miscere gaudebat suas facetias

His annuis leporibus.

Vixit probus, purâque simplex indole,
Blandisque comis moribus,

Et dives æquâ mente-charus omnibus,
Unius auctus munere.

Ite tituli meritis beatioribus

Aptate laudes debitas!

Nec invidebat ille, si quibus favens
Fortuna plus arriserat.

Placide senex! levi quiescas cespite,
Etsi superbum nec vivo tibi

Decus sit inditum, nec mortuo
Lapis notatus nomine.

I make no apology for the introduction of the following lines, though I have never learned who wrote them. Their elegance will sufficiently recommend them to persons of classical taste and erudition, and I shall be happy if the English version that they have received from me be found not to dishonour them. Affection for the memory of the worthy man whom they celebrate alone prompted me to this endeavour.-W. COWPER.

THE SAME IN ENGLISH

OUR good old friend is gone, gone to his rest,
Whose social converse was itself a feast.
O ye of riper age, who recollect

How once ye loved and eyed him with respect,
Both in the firmness of his better day,

While yet he ruled you with a father's sway,
And when, impaired by time and glad to rest,
Yet still with looks in mild complacence drest,
He took his annual seat and mingled here
His sprightly vein with yours-now drop a tear.
In morals blameless as in manners meek,
He knew no wish that he might blush to speak,
But, happy in whatever state below,

And richer than the rich in being so,

Obtained the hearts of all, and such a meed
At length from one, as made him rich indeed.
Hence, then, ye titles; hence, not wanted here;
Go, garnish merit in a brighter sphere,

The brows of those whose more exalted lot

He could congratulate, but envied not.

Light lie the turf, good senior! on thy breast, And tranquil as thy mind was be thy rest!

Though, living, thou hadst more desert than fame, And not a stone now chronicles thy name.

IN BREVITATEM VITÆ SPATII HOMINIBUS CONCESSI

BY DR. JORTIN

HEI mihi! Lege ratâ sol occidit atque resurgit,
Lunaque mutatæ reparat dispendia formæ,
Astraque, purpurei telis extincta diei,

Rursus nocte vigent. Humiles telluris alumni,
Graminis herba virens, et florum picta propago,
Quos crudelis hyems lethali tabe peredit,
Cum Zephyri vox blanda vocat, rediitque sereni
Temperies anni, fœcundo è cespite surgunt.
Nos domini rerum, nos, magna et pulchra minati,
Cum breve ver vitæ robustaque transiit ætas,
Deficimus; nec nos ordo revolubilis auras
Reddit in æthereas, tumuli neque claustra resolvit.

ON THE SHORTNESS OF HUMAN LIFE

TRANSLATION OF THE FOREGOING

SUNS that set, and moons that wane,
Rise and are restored again;
Stars that orient day subdues
Night at her return renews.

Herbs and flowers, the beauteous birth
Of the genial womb of earth,
Suffer but a transient death
From the winter's cruel breath.
Zephyr speaks; serener skies
Warm the glebe, and they arise.
We, alas! earth's 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.

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