« PředchozíPokračovat »
If scorn of God's commands, impressed
On word and deed, imply
The better part of man, unblessed
Such want it, and that want uncured
Sad period to a pleasant course!
Sabbaths profaned without remorse,
PAUSE here, and think: a monitory rhime
And many a tomb, like HAMILTON's, aloud
EPITAPH ON A HARE.
HERE lies, whom hound did ne'er pursue,
Old Tiney, surliest of his kind,
Though duly from my hand he took
His pittance every night,
He did it with a jealous look
And, when he could, would bite.
His diet was of wheaten bread
And milk, and oats, and straw;
Thistles, or lettuces instead,
On twigs of hawthorn he regaled,
Sliced carrot pleased him well.
A Turkey carpet was his lawn,
His frisking was at evening hours,
But most before approaching showers,
Eight years and five round-rolling moons
He thus saw steal away, Dozing out all his idle noons, And every night at play.
I kept him for his humour sake,
My heart of thoughts that made it ache;
But now beneath his walnut shade
He still more aged feels the shocks,