STANZAS,

Addressed to Lady Hesketh, by a Lady, in returning a Poem of Mr. Cowper's, lent to the Writer, on condition she should neither shewit, nor take a copy.

WHAT wonder! if my wavering hand

Had dar'd to disobey,

When Hesketh gave a harsh command,
And Cowper led astray.

Then take this tempting gift of thine,
By pen uncopied yet!
But canst thou memory confine,

Or teach me to forget?

More lasting than the touch of art,
Her characters remain ;
When written by a feeling heart

On tablets of the brain.

COWPER'S REPLY.

To be remember'd thus is fame,
And in the first degree;

And did the few, like her the same,
The press might rest for me.

So Homer in the memory stor❜d

Of many a Grecian belle,'

Was once preserv'd-a richer hoard,

But never lodg'd so well!

APPENDIX.

[No. 2.]

TRANSLATIONS of GREEK VERSES.

From the Greek of Julianus.

A SPARTAN, his companion slain,
Alone from battle fled,

His mother, kindling with disdain

That she had borne him, struck him dead;

For courage, and not birth alone,

In Sparta, testifies a son!

On the same, by Palladas.

A SPARTAN 'scaping from the fight,
His mother met him in his flight,
Upheld a faulchion to his breast,

And thus the fugitive address'd :

6.

Thou canst but live to blot with shame Indelible thy mother's name,

"While ev'ry breath that thou shalt draw, "Offends against thy country's law;

"But

My name-my country-what are they to thee?
What—whether base or proud, my pedigree?
Perhaps I far surpass'd all other men—
Perhaps I fell below them all-what then?
Suffice it, stranger! that thou see'st a tomb-
Thou know'st its use-it hides-no matter whom.

Another,

TAKE to thy bosom, gentle earth, a swain
With much hard labour in thy service worn.
He set the vines, that clothe yon ample plain,
And he these olives, that the vale adorn.

He fill'd with grain the glebe, the rills he led,
Through this green herbage and those fruitful bow'rs
Thou, therefore, Earth! lie lightly on his head,
His hoary head, and deck his grave with flow'rs.

VOL. II.

RR

Another

Another.

PAINTER, this likeness is too strong,
And we shall mourn the dead too long.

Another.

AT three-score winters' end I died
A cheerless being, sole and sad,
The nuptial knot I never tied,
And wish my father never had.

By Callimachus.

AT morn we placed on his funeral bier
Young Melanippus; and at even-tide,
Unable to sustain a loss so dear,

By her own hand his blooming sister died,

Thus Aristippus mourn'd his noble race,
Annihilated by a double blow,

Nor son could hope, nor daughter more t' embrace,
And all Cyrene sadden'd at his woe.

On Miltiades.

MILTIADES! thy valour best.
(Although in every region known)
The men of Persia can attest,
Taught by thyself at Marathon.

On

On an Infant.

BEWAIL not much, my parents! Me, the prey
Of ruthless Ades, and sepulcher'd here,

An infant, in my fifth scarce finish'd year,
He found all sportive, innocent, and gay,
Your young Callimachus; and if I knew
Not many joys, my griefs were also few.

By Heraclides.

IN Cnidus born, the consort I became
Of Euphron. Aretimias was my name.
His bed I shared, nor proved a barren bride
But bore two children at a birth, and died.
One child I leave to solace and uphold
Euphron hereafter, when infirm and old.
And one, for his remembrance sake, I bear
To Pluto's realm, till he shall join me there.

On the Reed.

I Was of late a barren plant,
Useless, insignificant.

Nor fig, nor grape, nor apple bore,

A native of the marshy shore,
But gather'd for poetic use,
And plung'd into a sable juice,

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