Full many a gem of purest ray serene

The dark unfathom'd caves of ocean bear; Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, And waste its sweetness on the desert air.1

Elegy in a Country Churchyard. Stanza 14.

Some village Hampden, that with dauntless breast
The little tyrant of his fields withstood,
Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest,
Some Cromwell guiltless of his country's blood.

The applause of list'ning senates to command,
The threats of pain and ruin to despise,
To scatter plenty o'er a smiling land,
And read their history in a nation's eyes.
Forbade to wade through slaughter to a throne,
And shut the gates of mercy on mankind.
Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife
Their sober wishes never learn'd to stray;
Along the cool sequester'd vale of life
They kept the noiseless tenor of their way.
Implores the passing tribute of a sigh.

And many a holy text around she strews,
That teach the rustic moralist to die.

For who, to dumb forgetfulness a prey,

This pleasing anxious being e'er resign'd, Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day, Nor cast one longing ling'ring look behind? E'en from the tomb the voice of nature cries, E'en in our ashes live their wonted fires.3

1 See Young, page 311.

Stanea 15.

Stanza 16.

Stanza 17.

Stanza 19.

Stanza 20.

Stanza 21.

Stanza 22.

Stanza 23

Nor waste their sweetness in the desert air. -CHURCHILL: Gotham,

book ii. line 20.

Brushing with hasty steps the dews away,
To meet the sun upon the upland lawn.

Stanza 28.

Elegy in a Country Churchyard. Stanza 26.
One morn I miss'd him on the custom'd hill,
Along the heath, and near his fav'rite tree :
Another came; nor yet beside the rill,
Nor up
the lawn, nor at the wood was he.
Here rests his head upon the lap of earth,
A youth to fortune and to fame unknown:
Fair Science frown'd not on his humble birth,
And Melancholy mark'd him for her own.1

Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere,
Heaven did a recompense as largely send:

He gave to mis❜ry (all he had) a tear,

The Epitaph.

He gained from Heav'n ('t was all he wish'd) a friend.

Ibid.

No further 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.

And weep the more, because I weep in vain.

Ibid.

Sonnet. On the Death of Mr. West.

Rich windows that exclude the light,
And passages that lead to nothing.
The hues of bliss more brightly glow,
Chastised by sabler tints of woe.

A Long Story.

Ode on the Pleasure arising from Vicissitude. Line 45.

From toil he wins his spirits light,
From busy day the peaceful night;
Rich, from the very want of wealth,

In heaven's best treasures, peace and health.

Ode on the Pleasure arising from Vicissitude. Line 93.

The social smile, the sympathetic tear.

Education and Government.

When love could teach a monarch to be wise,
And gospel-light first dawn'd from Bullen's eyes.1
Too poor for a bribe, and too proud to importune;
He had not the method of making a fortune.

On his own Character.

Now as the Paradisiacal pleasures of the Mahometans consist in playing upon the flute and lying with Houris, be mine to read eternal new romances of Marivaux and

Crebillon.

To Mr. West. Letter iv. Third Series.

DAVID GARRICK. 1716-1779.

Corrupted freemen are the worst of slaves.

Prologue to the Gamesters.

Their cause I plead, plead it in heart and mind;
A fellow-feeling makes one wondrous kind.2

Prologue on Quitting the Stage in 1776.

Prologues like compliments are loss of time;
'Tis penning bows and making legs in rhyme.

Prologue to Crisp's Tragedy of Virginia.

Let others hail the rising sun:

I bow to that whose course is run.3

On the Death of Mr. Pelham.

1 This was intended to be introduced in the "Alliance of Education and Government."

Mason's edition of Gray, vol. iii. p. 114.

2 See Burton, page 185.

3 Pompey bade Sylla recollect that more worshipped the rising than the setting sun.-PLUTARCH: Life of Pompey.

This scholar, rake, Christian, dupe, gamester, and poet.

Hearts of oak are our ships,

Hearts of oak are our men.1

Jupiter and Mercury.

Hearts of Oak.

Here lies James Quinn. Deign, reader, to be taught,
Whate'er thy strength of body, force of thought,
In Nature's happiest mould however cast,
To this complexion thou must come at last.

Epitaph on Quinn. Murphy's Life of Garrick. Vol. ii. p. 38.
Are these the choice dishes the Doctor has sent us?
Is this the great poet whose works so content us?
This Goldsmith's fine feast, who has written fine books?
Heaven sends us good meat, but the Devil sends cooks??
Epigram on Goldsmith's Retaliation. Vol. ii. p.

157.

Here lies Nolly Goldsmith, for shortness called Noll, Who wrote like an angel, and talk'd like poor Poll. Impromptu Epitaph on Goldsmith.

WILLIAM B. RHODES.

Who dares this pair of boots displace,
Must meet Bombastes face to face.

Circa 1790.

Bombastes Furioso. Act i. Sc. 4

Bom. So have I heard on Afric's burning shore
A hungry lion give a grievous roar;

The grievous roar echoed along the shore.
Artax. So have I heard on Afric's burning shore
Another lion give a grievous roar;

And the first lion thought the last a bore.

1 Our ships were British oak,

And hearts of oak our men.

Ibid

2 See Tusser, page 20.

S. J. ARNOLD: Death of Nelson.

8 Let none but he these arms displace,

Who dares Orlando's fury face.

CERVANTES: Don Quixote, part ii. chap. læví.

RAY: Proverbs. THOMAS: English Prose Romance, page 85,

WALPOLE.

MRS. GREVILLE.1

Circa 1793.

Nor peace nor ease the heart can know

Which, like the needle true,

Turns at the touch of joy or woe,

But turning, trembles too.

HORACE WALPOLE.

Harry Vane, Pulteney's toad-eater,

A Prayer for Indifference

1717-1797.

Letter to Sir Horace Mann, 1742.

The world is a comedy to those that think, a tragedy

to those who feel.

Ibid. 1770.

A careless song, then, does not misbecome a monarch.2

with a little nonsense in it now and

Ibid. 1774.

The whole [Scotch] nation hitherto has been void of wit and humour, and even incapable of relishing it. Ibid. 1778.

8

WILLIAM COLLINS. 1720-1756.

In numbers warmly pure and sweetly strong.

Well

Ode to Simplicity.

may your hearts believe the truths I tell : 'Tis virtue makes the bliss, where'er we dwell. Oriental Eclogues. 1, Line 5.

How sleep the brave who sink to rest
By all their country's wishes bless'd!

Ode written in the year 1746.

By fairy hands their knell is rung;5
By forms unseen their dirge is sung;

1 The pretty Fanny Macartney. — WALPOLE: Memoirs.

2 A little nonsense now and then

Is relished by the wisest men.
ANONYMOUS.

3 It requires a surgical operation to get a joke well into a Scotch under standing.-SYDNEY SMITH: Lady Holland's Memoir, vol. i. p. 15.

4 See Pope, page 320.

Var. By hands unseen the knell is rung;

By fairy forms their dirge is sung.