ANOTHER,

For a stone erected on a similar occasion at the same place in the following year.

READER! behold a monument
That asks no sigh or tear,
Though it perpetuate the event
Of a great burial here.

June, 1790.

Anno 1791.

TO MRS. KING,

On her kind present to the author, a patchwork counterpane of her own making.

THE bard, if e'er he feel at all,
Must sure be quicken'd by a call
Both on his heart and head,

Το

pay with tuneful thanks the care
And kindness of a lady fair,
Who deigns to deck his bed.

A bed like this, in ancient time,
On Ida's barren top sublime,

(As Homer's epic shows)

Composed of sweetest vernal flowers,
Without the aid of sun or showers,

For Jove and Juno rose.

C

Less beautiful, however gay,

Is that which in the scorching day
Receives the weary swain,

Who, laying his long sithe aside,
Sleeps on some bank with daisies pied,
Till roused to toil again.

What labours of the loom I see!
Looms numberless have groan'd for me!
Should every maiden come

To scramble for the patch that bears
The impress of the robe she wears,
The bell would toll for some.

And oh, what havoc would ensue !
This bright display of every hue
All in a moment fled!

As if a storm should strip the bowers
Of all their tendrils, leaves, and flowers-
Each pocketing a shred.

Thanks then to every gentle fair
Who will not come to peck me bare

As bird of borrow'd feather,
And thanks to one above them all,
The gentle fair of Pertenhall,
Who put the whole together.
August, 1790.

YOL. VII.

Y

Soon watery grew her eyes and dim,
But t with a joyful tear,

!ཙྪིན

None else, except in prayer for him,
George ever drew from her.

It was a scene in every part

Like those in fable feign'd,

And seem'd by some magician's art de to
Created and sustain'd.

But other magic there, she knew,
Had been exerted none,

To raise such wonders in her view,
Save love of George alone.

That cordial thought her spirit cheer'd,
And, through the cumbrous throng,
Not else unworthy to be fear'd,
Convey'd her calm along.

So, ancient poets say, serene Di
The sea-maid rides the waves,

And fearless of the billowy scene

Her peaceful bosom laves.

With more than astronomic eyes
She view'd the sparkling show;

One Georgian star adorns the skies,
She myriads found below.

و

Like that, once seen, suffice,

Heaven grant us no such future sight, bu

Such previous woe the price too sili bekasi,

THE COCK-FIGHTER'S GARLAND.

MUSE―hide his name of whom I sing,
Lest his surviving house thou bring
For his sake into scorn,

1

Nor speak the school from which he drew
The much or little that he knew,

Nor place where he was born.

That such a man once was, may seem
Worthy of record (if the theme
Perchance may credit win)

* Written on reading the following in the obituary of the Gentleman's Magazine for April, 1789.-" At Tottenham, John Ardesoif, Esq., a young man of large fortune, and in the splendour of his carriages and horses rivalled by few country gentlemen. His table was that of hospitality, where, it may be said, he sacrificed too much to conviviality; but, if he had his foibles he had his merits also, that far outweighed them. Mr. A. was very fond of cock-fighting, and had a favourite cock, upon which he had won many profitable matches. The last bet he laid upon this cock he lost; which so enraged him, that he had the bird tied to a spit and roasted alive before a large fire. The screams of the miserable animal were so affecting, that some gentlemen who were present attempted to interfere, which so enraged Mr. A., that he seized a poker, and with the most furious vehemence declared, that he would kill the first man who interposed; but, in the midst of his passionate asseverations, he fell down dead upon the spot. Such, we are assured, were the circumstances which attended the death of this great pillar of humanity."

With barbarius gurts, whose fel delight

Was a encourire mural first

Twixt bris 2 battle train d