ELEGY ON MRS. MARY BLAIZE.

Her love was sought, I do aver,
By twenty beaux and more;
The king himself has follow'd her-
When she has walk'd before.

But now her wealth and finery fled,
Her hangers-on cut short-all;

The doctors found, when she was dead-
Her last disorder mortal.

Let us lament, in sorrow sore,

For Kent-street well may say,

That, had she liv'd a twelvemonth more

She had not died to-day.

A BEAUTIFUL YOUTH,

STRUCK BLIND BY LIGHTNING.

IMITATED FROM THE SPANISH,

SURE

URE 'twas by Providence design'd,

Rather in pity, than in hate,

That he should be, like Cupid, blind,
To save him from Narcissus' fate.

STANZAS

ON

WOMAN.

W

HEN lovely woman stoops to folly,
And finds too late that men betray;
What charın can sooth her inelancholy,
What art can wash her guilt away? ́

The only art her guilt to cover,

To hide her shame from every eye,

To give repentance to her lover,
And wring his bosom-is, to die!

N

THE

CLOWN'S REPLY.

JOHN TROTT was desired by two witty peers, To tell them the reason why asses had ears? "An't please you,” quoth John, " I'm not given to

letters,

Nor dare I pretend to know more than my betters; Howe'er, from this time, I shall ne'er see your graces, As I hope to be saved! without thinking on asses."

SONNET*.

WEEPING, murmuring, complaining,

Lost to ev'ry gay delight;

Myra, too sincere for feigning,
Fears th' approaching bridal night.

Yet why impair thý bright perfection!
Or dim thy beauty with a tear?
Had Myra follow'd my direction,
She long had wanted cause of fear.

*Closely copied from a madrigal by St. Pavier.

ORATORIO

OF

THE CAPTIVITY,

T

SONG.

HE wretch condemn'd with life to part,

Still, still on hope relies;

And every pang that rends the heart,

Bids expectation rise.

Hope, like glimmering taper's light,
Adorns and cheers the way;

And still, as darker grows the night,
Emits a brighter ray.

SONG.

MEMORY ! thou fond deceiver, Still importunate and vain,

To former joys recurring ever,

And turning all the past to pain.

Thou, like the world, th' opprest oppressing,
Thy smiles increase the wretch's woe;

And he who wants each other blessing,
In thee must ever find a foe.

SONG,

INTENDED TO HAVE BEEN SUNG IN THE COMEDY OF

"SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER*."

AH, me! when shall I marry me?
Lovers are plenty, but fail to relieve me.
He, fond youth! that could carry me,
Offers to love, but means to deceive me.

But I will rally and combat the ruiner: [cover;
Not a look, not a smile shall my passion dis-
She that gives all to the false one pursuing her,
Makes but a penitent, and loses a lover.

*"Sir, I send you a small production of the late Dr. Goldsmith, which has never been published, and which might prehaps have been totally lost, had I not secured it. He intended it as a song in the character of Miss Hardcastle, in his admirable comedy of "She Stoops to Conquer;" but it was left out, as Mrs. Bulkley, who played the part, did not sing. He sung it himself, in private companies, very agreeably. The tune is a pretty Irish air, called "The Humours of Balamagairy," to which he told me he found it very difficult to adapt words; but he has succeeded very happily in these few lines. As I could sing the tune, and was fond of them, he was so good as to give me them, about a year ago, just as I was leaving London, and bidding him adieu for that season, littlę apprehending that it was a last farewell. I preserve this little relic, in his own hand writing, with an affectionate care I am, Sir, your humble servant, JAMES BOSWELL."