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Fair science frown'd not on his humble birth,
And melancholy mark'd him for her own.
Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere,
Heav'n did a recompense as largely send:

He gave to misery all he had-a tear;

He gain'd from Heaven ('twas all he wish'd)—a friend.

No farther seek his merits to disclose,

Or draw his frailties from their dread abode; There they alike in trembling hope repose,

The bosom of his Father and his God.

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The Attic warbler pours her throat,
Responsive to the cuckoo's note,

The untaught harmony of spring; While, whisp'ring pleasure as they fly, Cool zephyrs through the clear blue sky Their gather'd fragrance fling.

Where'er the oak's thick branches stretch A broader, browner shade,

Where'er the rude and moss-grown beech O'er-canopies the glade,

Beside some water's rushy brink
With me the Muse shall sit, and think
(At ease reclined in rustic state)

How vain the ardour of the crowd!
How low, how little, are the proud!
How indigent the great!

Still is the toiling hand of care,
The panting herds repose——
Yet hark! how through the peopled air
The busy murmur glows!

The insect youth are on the wing,
Eager to taste the honied spring,

And float amid the liquid noon;
Some lightly o'er the current skim,
Some show their gaily-gilded trim,
Quick-glancing to the sun.

To contemplation's sober eye
Such is the race of man:

And they that creep, and they that fly,
Shall end where they began.

Alike the busy and the gay
But flutter through life's little day,
In fortune's varying colours drest:
Brush'd by the hand of rough mischance,
Or chill'd by age, their airy dance
They leave, in dust to rest.

Methinks I hear, in accents low,

The sportive kind reply:

Poor moralist! and what art thou?

A solitary fly!

Thy joys no glitt'ring female meets,
No hive hast thou of hoarded sweets,
No painted plumage to display;
On hasty wings thy youth is flown,
Thy sun is set, thy spring is gone-
We frolic while 'tis May.

ON THE DEATH OF A FAVOURITE CAT,

DROWNED IN A TUB OF GOLD FISHES.

'Twas on a lofty vase's side,
Where China's gayest art had dyed

The azure flowers that blow--
Demurest of the tabby kind,
The pensive Selima reclined,
Gazed on the lake below.

Her conscious tail her joy declared;
The fair round face, the snowy beard,
The velvet of her paws,

Her coat, that with the tortoise vies,
Her ears of jet, and emerald eyes,
She saw; and purr'd applause.

Still had she gazed; but 'midst the tide
Two angel forms were seen to glide,
The genii of the stream:
Their scaly armour's Tyrian hue
Through richest purple to the view
Betray'd a golden gleam.

The hapless nymph with wonder saw:
A whisker first, and then a claw,
With many an ardent wish,

She stretch'd in vain to reach the prize.
What female heart can gold despise ?
What cat's averse to fish?

Presumptuous maid! with looks intent
Again she stretch'd, again she bent,
Nor knew the gulf between
(Malignant fate sat by, and smiled):
The slipp'ry verge her feet beguiled—
She tumbled headlong in.

Eight times emerging from the flood,
She mew'd to every watery god
Some speedy aid to send:

No Dolphin came, no Nereid stirr'd;
Nor cruel Tom, nor Susan heard-
A fav'rite has no friend!

From hence, ye beauties undeceived,
Know, one false step is ne'er retrieved,
And be with caution bold.

Not all that tempts your wandering eyes
And heedless hearts, is lawful prize:
Nor all that glisters gold.

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ON A DISTANT PROSPECT OF ETON COLLEGE Ανθρωπος ἱκανὴ πρόφασις εἰς τὸ δυςυχεῖν.—MENANDER.

Ye distant spires, ye antique towers,

That crown the watery glade,
Where grateful science still adores

Her Henry's holy shade;

King Henry VI., founder of the college.

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