Sad Philomel thus-but let similies drop- At least, it's your temper, as very well known, That you think very slightly of all that's your own: So, perhaps, in your habits of thinking amiss, You may make a mistake, and think slightly of this. FROM THE ORATORIO OF THE CAPTIVITY. SONG. THE wretch condemn'd with life to part, Still, still on hope relies; And ev'ry pang that rends the heart, Bids expectation rise. Hope, like the glimm'ring taper's light, Adorns and cheers the way; And still, as darker grows the night, SONG. O MEMORY! thou fond deceiver, And turning all the past to pain; Thou, like the world, the opprest oppressing, THE CLOWN'S REPLY. JOHN TROTT was desir'd by two witty peers, To tell them the reason why asses had ears; "An't please you," quoth John, "I'm not given to "letters, "Nor dare I pretend to know more than my betters: Howe'er from this time I shall ne'er see your graces, As I hope to be sav'd! without thinking on asses." Edinburgh, 1753. EPITAPH ON EDWARD PURDON.* HERE lies poor NED PURDON, from misery freed, He led such a damnable life in this world,- * This gentleman was educated at Trinity College, Dublin; but having wasted his patrimony, he enlisted as a foot soldier. Growing tired of that employment, he obtained his discharge, and became a scribbler in the newspapers. He translated Voltaire's HENRIADE. |