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(At ease reclin'd 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 :
The busy murmur glows !
And float amid the liquid noon :*
Quick-glancing to the sun.t
To Contemplation's sober eyet
Such is the race of Man :
Shall end where they began.
In Fortune’s varying colours dress'd :
They leave, in dust to rest.
*Nare per æstatem liquidam
Virgil Georg. lib. 4.
t - sporting with quiek glance,
Milton's Paradise Lost, book 7.
* While insects from the threshold preach, &e.
M. Green, in the Grotto.
Methinks I hear, in accents low,
The sportive kind reply:
A solitary fly!
No painted plumage to display:
We frolic while 'tis May.
THE DEATH OF A FAVOURITE CAT,
DNOWNED IN A TU 11 OF GOLD VISITES.
"I'was on a lofty vase's side, Where China's gayest art had dy'd
The azure flowers, that blow ; Demurest of the tabby kind, The pensive Selima, reclin'd,
Gaz'd on the lake below.
Her conscious tail her joy declar'd;
The velvet of her paws,
She saw ; and purr'd applause.
still had she gaz'd; but midst the tido I'wo angel forms were seen to glide,
The Genii of the stream:
Betray'd a golden gleam.
The hapless Nymph with wonder saw :
With many an ardent wish,
What cat's averse to fish?
Presumptuous Maid! with looks intent
Nor knew the gulf between:
She tumbled headlong in.
Eight times emerging from the flood,
Some speedy aid to send.
A Fav'rite has no friend!
From hence, ye Beauties, undeceiv'd,
And be with caution bold.
Nor all that glisters gold.
2 DISTANT PROSPECT OF ETON
Ανθρωπος ικανη προφασις εις το δυςυχων.
Yx distant spires, ye antique towers,
That crown the wat'ry glade,
Her HENRY's holy shade ;*
Of grove, of lawn, of mead survey,
Ilis silver winding way :
Ah, happy hills! ah, pleasing shade!
Ah, fields belov'd in vain!
A stranger yet to pain!
As waving fresh their gludsome wing,
'To breathe a second spring.
• King Honry the Sixth, founder of the Collego.
Dryden', l'able on the Pythag. Systeme Vol. XXIX.
Say, Father Thames, for thou hast seen
Full many a sprightly race
The paths of pleasure trace ;
The captive linnet which enthral?
Or urge the flying ball ?
While some on earnest business bent
Their murm'ring labours ply 'Gainst graver hours, that bring constraint
To sweeten liberty:
And unknown regions dare descry:
And snatch a fearful joy.
Gay hope is theirs by fancy fed,
Less pleasing when possess'd; The tear forgot as soon as shed,
The sunshine of the breast : Theirs buxom Health, of rosy hue, Wild Wit, Invention ever-new,
And lively Cheer, of Vigour born ; The thoughtless day, the easy night, The spirits pure, the slumbers light,
That fly the approach of morn.