Nor some reproof yourself refuse If killing birds be such a crime, TO WILLIAM HAYLEY, ESQ. DEAR architect of fine chateaux in air. Worthier to stand forever, if they could, Than any built of stone or yet of wood, For back of royal elephant to bear! O for permission from the skies to share, Much to my own, though little to thy good, With thee (not subject to the jealous mood!) A partnership of literary ware! But I am bankrupt now; and doom'd henceforth That he has furnish'd lights for other eyes, Which they who need them use, and then despise. June 29, 1793. ANSWER To Stanzas addressed to Lady Hesketh, by Miss Catharine Fanshawe, in returning a Poem of Mr. Cowper's, lent to her, on condition she should neither show it, nor take a copy. To be remember'd thus is fame, Was once preserved -a richer hoard, 1793. ON FLAXMAN'S PENELOPE. THE suitors sinn'd, but with a fair excuse, Whom all this elegance might well seduce; Nor can our censure on the husband fall, Who for a wife so lovely, slew them all. September, 1793. TO THE SPANISH ADMIRAL COUNT GRAVINA, On his translating the Author's Song on a Rose into My rose, Gravina, blooms anew, 1793. INSCRIPTION FOR THE TOMB OF MR. HAMILTON. PAUSE here, and think: a monitory rhyme Consult life's silent clock, thy bounding vein, Seems it to say-"Health here has long to reign?" Hast thou the vigor 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." EPITAPH ON A HARE. HERE lies, whom hound did ne'er pursue, Old Tiney, surliest of his kind, Who, nursed with tender care, Though duly from my hand he took 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 regaled, A turkey carpet was his lawn, Whereon he loved to bound, His frisking was at evening hours, Eight years and five round rolling moons I kept him for his humor's sake, My heart of thoughts that made it ache, But now beneath this walnut shade He still more aged. feels the shocks, |