ΤΟ THE

MEMORY OF A YOUNG LADY.

ENDOW'D with all that Fortune could beftow ;

With brilliancy of wit and beauty's glow,
FRANCISCA, rifing to her fifteenth year,
Stood mid the virgin train without a peer:
Her confcious bofom throbb'd to virtue warm,
While diffidence ftill heighten'd ev'ry charm:
But Heav'n's decree forbad this beauty's queen
To act her part thro' beauty's fhort-liv'd scene:
A gradual illness on her figure prey'd,

And flowly, flowly funk the fading maid:
Torn from each with to which her youth afpir'd,
Unfearing-uncomplaining-fhe expir'd :
Thus fome faint lily to its mother-ground

In filence falls-while fpring is blooming round.

INSCRIP

INSCRIPTION,

INTENDED

FOR

AN OLD THATCHED CHURCH

FAR from the fplendor of a costly fane,

My low roof canopies the humble train :

Deep in my vaults, divorc'd from human woes,
The life-worn weary villagers repofe:

When at my altar kneels the hamlet Fair,
And to her God unveils her bofom'd care!
Or does the herdsman bend with grief dif.reft,
Kind comfort fteals upon their lighten'd breast :
Here too Religion weaves with viewlefs hand,
For fpotlefs village hearts, the nuptial hand,
And twines with many a charm the holy braid
That joins the lab'rer and the nut-brown maid.

ON

ON THE

DEAT H

OF TWO FAVOURITE BIRDS.

INVOLV'D in flame and fuffocating breath,

A hapless bird was doom'd to fudden death;
The female, touch'd at his uncommon faté,
Survey'd the form of her disfigur'd mate;
With drooping head and fhiv'ring wings the flood
In all the agony of widowhood!

At length, to grief's fevereft pow'r a prey,
She dropt-and figh'd her little foul away.

Ye wedded birds, tho' rigid be your doom, Yet ANNA watches at your early tomb;

Mifs ANN BEAUCLERK.

For

For you her flowing pity burfts reftraint,
Your dirge is utter'd in her soft complaint,
Your elegy, without the poet's art,

Is writ by forrow on the pureft heart.

,、,、་་

SENSIBILITY.

CELESTIAL fpring! to Nature's favourites giv'n,

Fed by the dews that bathe the flow'rs of heav'n:
From the pure cryftal of thy fountain flow
The tears that trickle o'er another's woe;
The filent drop that calms our own distress;
The gush of rapture at a friend's fuccefs;

Thine the soft show'rs down beauty's breast that steal
To footh the heart-wounds they can never heal:
Thine too the tears of ecftacy that roll,

When genius rushes on the ravish'd foul ;

And thine the hallow'd flood that drowns the eye,
When warm Religion lifts the thought on high.

MAY