ACCEPT, said he, the gratitude of thy most humble, yet most happy creature, not for silver or gold, the tinsel of mankind, but for those amiable peculiarities which thou hast so graciously interwoven both with my fortune and my complexion: For those treasures so well adapted to that frame of mind thou hast assigned me.

THAT the surname which has descended to me is liable to no pun.

THAT it runs chiefly upon vowels and liquids.

THAT I have a picturesque countenance rather than one that is esteemed of regular features.

THAT there is an intermediate hill, intercepting my view of a nobleman's seat, whose ill-obtained superiority I cannot bear to recollect.

THAT my estate is over-run with brambles, resounds with cataracts, and is beautifully varied with rocks and precipices, rather than an even cultivated spot, fertile of corn, or wine, or oil; or those kinds

of

of productions in which the sons of men delight themselves.

THAT as thou dividest thy bounties impartially; giving riches to one, and the contempt of riches to another, so thou hast given me, in the midst of poverty, to despise the insolence of riches, and by declining all emulation that is founded upon wealth, to maintain the dignity and superiority of the Muses.

THAT I have a disposition either so elevated or so ingenuous, that I can derive to myself amusement from the very expedients and contrivances with which rigorous necessity furnishes my invention.

THAT I can laugh at my own follies, foibles, and infirmities; and that I do not want infirmities to employ this disposition.

THIS poor gentleman caught cold one winter's night, as he was contemplating, by the side of a crystal :stream, by moonshine. This afterwards terminated

Since his death, I

in a fever that was fatal to him. have been favoured with the inspection of his poetry, of which I preserved a catalogue for the benefit of my readers.

OCCASIONAL POEMS.

ON his dog, that growing corpulent refused a crust when it was offered him.

To the memory of a pair of breeches, that had done him excellent service.

HAVING lost his trusty walking-staff, he complaineth.

To his mistress, on her declaring that she loved parsnips better than potatoes.

ON an ear-wig that crept into a nectarine that it might be swallowed by Chloe.

ON cutting an artichoke in his garden the day that Queen Anne cut her little finger.

EPIGRAM on a wooden-peg.

ODE to the memory of the great modern-who first invented shoe-buckles.

THE

THE HERMIT.

IN THE MANNER OF CAMBRAY.

WAS in that delightful month which Love prefers before all others, and which most reveres this deity: that month which ever

weaves a verdant carpet for the earth, and embroiders it with flowers. The banks became inviting through their coverlets of moss; the violets, refreshed by the moisture of descending rains, enriched the tepid air with their agreeable perfumes. But the shower was past; the sun dispersed the vapours; and the sky was clear and lucid, when Polydore walked forth. He was of a complexion altogether plain and unaffected; a lover of the Muses, and beloved by them. He would oftentimes retire from the noise of mixed conversation, to enjoy the melody of birds, or the murmurs of a waterfall. His neighbours often smiled at his peculiarity of temper; and he no less, at the vulgar cast of theirs. He could never be content to pass his irrevocable time in an idle comment upon a

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