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The Epitaph
Epitaphium

Song, by a Person of Quality

Carmen Elegans

Part of Homer's Hymn to Apollo, tranflated

from the Greek

From Catullus

The firft Book of the Henriade, translated from the French of M. de Voltaire

Page

204

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222

POEMS.

POE M S.

A DIALOGUE

BETWEEN THE AUTHOR AND HIS FRIEND.

# FRIEND.

YOU fay," it hurts you to the foul

Οι

To brook confinement or controul."
And yet will voluntary run
To that confinement you would fhun,
Content to drudge along the track,
With bells and harness on your back.
Alas! what genius can admit
A monthly tax on spendthrift wit,
Which often flings whole ftores away,
And oft has not a doit to pay
-Give us a work, indeed-of length-
Something which speaks poetic ftrength;
Is fluggish fancy at a ftand?

No scheme of consequence in hand?
VOL. II.

A

I, nor

I, nor your plan, nor book condemn,
But why your name, and why A, M?

AUTHOR.

Yes-it ftands forth to public view,
Within, without, on white, on blue,
In proper, tall, gigantic Letters,
Not dafh'd-emvowell'd-like my betters.
And though it ftares me in the face,
Reflects no fhame, hints no difgrace.
While thefe unlaboured trifles pleafe,
Familiar chains are worn with ease.

-Behold! to yours and my furprize,

Thefe trifles to a VOLUME rife.

Thus will you fee me, as I go,
Still gath'ring bulk like balls of snow,
Steal by degrees upon your shelf,
And grow a giant from an elf.
The current studies of the day,
Can rarely reach beyond a PLAY:
A PAMPHLET may deferve a look,
But Heav'n defend us from a Book!
A LIBEL flies on Scandal's wings,
But works of length are heavy things.
-Not one in twenty will fucceed-
Confider, fir, how few can read.

FRIEND.

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