'LATE HUNTSMAN TO THE LEICESTER HUNT,NA
Ir field diversions, reader, thou dost prize, -777
Revere this sod, where honest ROBIN lies;
Oft with the cry of hounds, and cheerful horn,
The lark preventing, he has hail'd the morn.
His eye, sagacious, was the first to find,
When loud tan-ta-ra swell'd the list'ning wind!
Nor hedge, nor ditch, nor gate of fearful height,
Could ROBIN's dauntless spirit e'er affright.å
In private life, an active part he play'd, “
By cheerful manners giving virtue aid.
Whoe'er thou art, on such a life reflect,
Go hence-and imitate and gain respect.
In vain to me the smiling mornings shine,
And redd'ning Phoebus lifts his golden fire:
The birds in vain their am'rous descant join,
Or cheerful fields resume their green attire:
These ears, alas! for other notes repine,
A diff'rent object do these eyes require;
My lonely anguish melts no heart but mine,
And in my breast th' imperfect joys expire.
Yet morning smiles, the busy race to cheer,
And new-born pleasure brings to happier men: The fields to all their wonted tribute bear:
To warm their little loves the birds complain. I fruitless mourn to him that cannot hear,
And weep the more, because I weep in vain.
ON THE REV. DAVID WILLIAMS.
A worthy minister of a dissenting congregation in Wales. VAIN are our tears, and fruitless all our sighs, Cold in his grave the rev'rend pastor lies.
Mute is that tongue whence heav'n-taught doctrine flow'd:
Still is that heart, where goodness ever glow'd.
His hand no more the pious priest extends,
With ardent grasp to welcome his lov'd friends.
But, ah! for ever from our sight convey'd,
With mould'ring dust his lifeless corpse is laid.
Near fourscore years a Godly race he ran,
Just servant to his lord, true friend to man:
With steady step through virtue's path he trod,
Nor e'er by wilful sin offended God.
His piety and faith thus fully prov❜d,
His Saviour saw; and now from earth remov'd,
'Midst saints he sits, in happy realms above,
And chaunts his maker's praise in songs of love.
ON JOE CRUMP.
ONCE ruddy and plump,
But now a pale lump,
Beneath this soft clump,
Lies honest JOE CRUMP,
Who wish'd to his neighbour no evil :
Although by Death's thump,
He's laid on his rump;
Yet up he shall jump,
When he hears the last trump,
And triumph o'er death and the devil.
HERE! hark ye! old friend! what wilt pass, then,
Taking notice of honest plump Jack?
For see how 'tis with me, my light is burnt out,
And they've laid me here flat on
my back. That light in my nose, once so bright to behold, That light is extinguish'd at last;
And I'm now put to bed, in the dark and the cold,
With wicker, and so forth, made fast.
But now wilt oblige me? Then call for a quart
Of the best, from the house o'er the way;
Drink a part on't thyself, on my grave pour a part,
And walk on.-Friend, I wish thee good day.
BENEATH this marble rests the mortal part
Of her who once delighted ev'ry heart;
How good she was, and what her virtues were,
Let weeping relatives and friends declare.
The heart that now this little tribute pays,
Too exquisitely feels to speak her praise;
Yet, would'st thou know the pious life she spent,
How many from her hands receiv'd content!
How many breasts, that poverty had chill'd,
Her charity with peace and rapture fill'd,
The village nigh shall gratify thine ears,
And tell thee, some with words, but most with tears.
READER! Survey this monumental pile,
Nor drop a tear of pity all the while :
It rose, enjoin'd by will, at mighty cost,
For, dead, by it the miser nothing lost.
He died, a victim at the shrine of pelf;
He died, because he never lov'd himself;
He died; a great revenge inspir'd the whim;
Mankind he hated; mankind hated him:
He died-Fate ne'er, like him, could debts forgive;
He died, because he knew not how to live.
ON DANIEL WEST, BARGEMAN.
HERE lies bargeman West,
Who was none of the best;
In his youth he was wild,
And when old was a child:
Being dead at the last,
Desir'd old Charon to give him a cast.
ON A GAMESTER.
HERE lies the body of All-Fours,
Who lost his money, and pawn'd his cloaths;
If that you want to know his name,
'Tis Highest, Lowest, Jack, and Game.
SUBLIME of genius! and with science bless'd,
Of ev'ry brilliant excellence possess'd;
Beyond the common standard, learn'd and wise,
Of conduct artless, and above disguise :
In whom, but equals few, superiors none,
The friend, the husband, and the father, shone!
A tutor, form'd t' implant in yielding youth,
And, into fruit, mature the seeds of truth:
A writer, elegant in manly charms,
Who, like the sun, enlightens while he warms;
A pastor, blending with divinest skill,
A seraph's knowledge, with a seraph's zeal :
Not only taught religion's paths, but trod;
And, like illustrious Enoch, walk'd with God.
Doddridge! these rich embellishments, combin'd,
Were thine; but who can paint an angel's mind?
Heav'n saw thee ripe for glory, and, in love,
Remov'd thee hence, to grace the realms above.
ON A GENTLEMAN AND HIS WIFE,
Who died in each other's arms, two days after marriage.
ALTHO' the cruel hand of fate
Could soul and body separate;
It could not man and wife divide;
They liv'd one life; one death they dy'd.
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