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HERE lies one who never drew
Would advance, present, and fire.
Neptune was he call'd; not He
And, your wonder vain to shorten,
EPITAPH ON FOP,
A DOG BELONGING TO LADY THROCKMORTON.
THOUGH Once a puppy, and though Fop by name, Here moulders one whose bones some honour claim; No sycophant, although of spaniel race,
And though no hound, a martyr to the chase.
Ye squirrels, rabbits, leverets, rejoice!
He died worn out with vain pursuit of you.
SONNET TO GEORGE ROMNEY, ESQ.
ON HIS PICTURE OF ME IN CRAYONS, DRAWN AT EARTHAM, IN THE SIXTY-FIRST YEAR OF MY AGE, AND IN THE MONTHS OF AUGUST AND SEPTEMBER, 1792.
ROMNEY, expert infallibly to trace
On chart or canvass, not the form alone
Well-I am satisfied it should be so,
Since, on maturer thought, the cause is clear; For in my looks what sorrow couldst thou see When I was Hayley's guest, and sat to thee?
ON RECEIVING HAYLEY'S PICTURE.
IN language warm as could be breathed or penn'd
EPITAPH ON MR. CHESTER, OF CHICHELEY. APRIL, 1793.
TEARS flow, and cease not, where the good man lies,
Tears therefore fall where Chester's ashes sleep;
ON A PLANT OF VIRGIN'S-BOWER,
DESIGNED TO COVER A GARDEN-SEAT.
SPRING OF 1793.
THRIVE, gentle plant! and weave a bower
For Mary and for me,
And deck with many a splendid flower
Thou camest from Eartham, and wilt shade,
(If truly I divine,)
Some future day the illustrious head
Should Daphne show a jealous frown,
Such honour'd brows as they,
Thy cause with zeal we shall defend,
For why should not the Virgin's friend
TO MY COUSIN, ANNE BODHAM,
RECEIVING FROM HER A NETWORK PURSE, MADE BY HERSELF.
MAY 4, 1793.
My gentle Anne, whom heretofore,
I danced and fondled on my knee,
pays the worth of all things here;
The best things kept within it.
FOR AN HERMITAGE IN THE AUTHOR'S GARDEN.
THIS cabin, Mary, in my sight appears,
TO MRS. UNWIN.
MARY! I want a lyre with other strings,
By seraphs writ with beams of heavenly light,
There all thy deeds, my faithful Mary, shine;