Can ev'ry sense of present joys excel : Shall then our youths, who fame's bright fabric raise, Is it small transport, as with curious eye To mark the day, when, thro' the bulky tome, Led by that index where true genius shines ? Ah let not BRITONS doubt their focial aim, ELE GY III. On the untimely death of a certain learned acquaintance. IF F proud PYGMALION quit his cumbrous frame, Funereal pomp the fcanty tear fupplies; Whilft heralds loud with venal voice proclaim, Lo! here the brave and the puiffant lies. When humbler ALCON leaves his drooping friends, He little knew the fly penurious art; That odious art which fortune's fav'rites know; Form'd to bestow, he felt the warmest heart, But envious fate forbade him to bestow. He little knew to ward the fecret wound; To fing her glories, and to paint her fair! Ill was he skill'd to guide his wand'ring sheep; Yet, at another's lofs, the fwain would weep; And, for his friend, his very crook were fold. Ye From winds protect them, and with food fupply; Ah! helpless they, to ward the threaten'd pain! The meagre famine, and the wint'ry fky! He lov❜d a nymph: amidst his flender store, He dar'd to love; and CYNTHIA was his theme; He breath'd his plaints along the rocky shore, They only echo'd o'er the winding stream. His nymph was fair; the sweetest bud that blows, Revives less lovely from the recent show'r; SO PHILOMEL enamour'd eyes the rose; Sweet bird! enamour'd of the sweetest flow'r! He lov'd the mufe; she taught him to complain; He lov'd the mufe, altho' fhe taught in vain ; She guides the foot that treads on Parian floors;` He wish'd for wealth, for much he wish'd to give ; The penfive prospect fadden'd all his strain. I faw him faint! I faw him fink to reft! Like one ordain'd to fwell the vulgar throng; As tho' the virtues had not warm'd his breaft, As tho' the mufes 'not infpir'd his tongue. I faw his bier ignobly crofs the plain; Saw peasant hands the pious rite supply : The generous ruftics mourn'd the friendly swain, But pow'r and wealth's unvarying cheek was dry! Such ALCON fell; in meagre want forlorn! Where were ye then ye powerful patrons, where? Wou'd ye the purple shou'd your limbs adorn, Go wash the confcious blemish with a tear. ELEGY T E LE GY IV. OPHELIA'S urn. To Mr. G HRO' the dim veil of ev'ning's dufky fhade, Near fome lone fane, or yew's funereal green, What dreary forms has magic fear furvey'd! What shrouded spectres fuperftition feen! But you secure shall pour your fad complaint, Nor dread the meagre phantom's wan array; What none but fear's officious hand can paint, What none, but fuperftition's eye, survey. The glim'ring twilight and the doubtful dawn Shall fee your step to these sad scenes return: Conftant, as crystal dews impearl the lawn, Shall STREPHON's tear bedew OPHELIA's urn! Sure nought unhallow'd shall presume to stray Haply thy mufe, as with unceasing fighs |