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Ε Ρ Ι Τ Α Ρ Η

Ο Ν Α

GENTLE MAN’s SON

Ο F

NINE YEARS OLD.

By J. CRADDOCK, Esq.

ERE rests the fairest Bud of Hope

That e'er to fondest Wish was given ; If thou wold'st know it's happier State,

Repent--and seek the Flower in Heaven,

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Who wished not to hear the Toll of a Bell on the Evening of the late Princess Dowager's Funeral.

By J. CRADDOCK, Ese.

ND why not hear the Sound of yonder Bell ? It tolls a fober, awful, folemn Knell,

A with’d-for Knell to Immortality. Think not a round of Folly's mad Career,

Can always shield thee from Reflection's Pow'r; The Young, the Fond, the Rich, the Gay, muft fear, Too long regardless of an awful Hour. Think not that beauteous Form that now you wear,

That Glow of Crimson—those inspiring Eyes Must linger ever here they all declare

They speak aloud their Kindred to the Skies.

Do not the Hour, the Day, the Month the Year

All in their Course expire? -But all renew; All Nature shews alas! a Prospect drear;

AH Nature Thews there's Happiness in view.

Long

Long tost in Storms, do Mariners repine

When the glad Pilot distant Land descries? Ah see them eager trace the folid Line,

See their Hopes kindle as the Objects rise !

And fhall my Fair, with brightest Hopes in Store,

Not once look up beyond this barren Clod?.. Shall the alone her Destiny deplore,

Her Anchor Heaven ! and her Pilot God?

E P I G R A.M

ON THE

Four Translations of HOMER.

I Head ;

N Ogilby's dull Strains lay Homer dead;

He rose to live in Pope's immortal Verse,
And now lies buried in Mac-son's Erse.

Α Ν

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NCE more the Sun his yearly Tour

Hath finish'd since in plaintive Mood
I usher'd in my natal Hour,

A Prey to joyless Solitude ;
As then to joyless Solitude a Prey,
Now Muse begin a more harinonious Lay.

4

For lo! She comes ; the Queen of Love

Propitious comes, and by her side, The Graces musically move;

Leading with gentle Hand a Bride, Fairer than e'er inspir'd a Poet's Dreams, When Fancy with its lov’d Idea teems.

Blind to Events, in vain we pry

Thro' future Life's mysterious Scene ; Oft from the dark and sullen Sky

Breaks forth a Sunshine unforeseen, As now bright Hymen's Lamp, with sudden Blaze, Dispell’d the Gloom that hover'd o'er my Days ! Thanks that my once-thought cruel Fate, Check’d the fond Hopes of youthsul Rage,

And, that Defire on Choice might wait,

Réserv'd me for maturer Age, When Truth and Friendship, and Affections pure, Feed the soft Flame, and lasting Joys assure.

Thanks to the Muse, that o'er my Birth

Presiding, gave me to despise
All the gay-seeming Dross of Earth,

The Wealth, the Pomp that others prize ;
These let Ambition seek, instead of these
Grant a kind Confort, and domestick Ease.

'Twas thus I pray’d, nor vain my Pray'r,

Heaven, all-indulgent, hath bestow'd
A Confort kind, domestick Fair, -

Wise, faithful, amiable and good,
With every Virtue, every Grace supply'd,
And, to adorn my Station, Wealih beside.

Hence Æra of my Days proceed,

The past was all a void Forlorn: 'Tis from this Date I live indeed

To Hymeneal Solace born:
Unwedded Hours the fame dull Circle run,
Life without Love is Earth without a Sun,

AN

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