By thee, reviving; did the favor'd tree
Exist, and blossom, and mature by thee;
To that selected plant did Heaven dispense,
With vegetable life, a nobler sense;
Would it not bless thy virtues? gentle Maid!
Would it not woo thy beauties to it's shade?
Bid all its buds in rich luxuriance shoot,
To crown thy summer with autumnal fruit;
Spread all it's leaves, a pillow to thy rest;
Give all it's flowers to languish on thy breast;
Reject the tendrils of the' uxorious vine,
And stretch it's longing arms-to circle thine ?
Yes; in Creation's intellectual reign,

Where life, sense, reason, with progressive chain
Dividing, blending, form the' harmonious whole :
That plant am I, distinguish'd by a soul.

WHAT! bid me seek another Fair,
In untried paths of female wiles ?
And posies weave of other hair,

And bask secure in other smiles?
Thy friendly stars no longer prize,
And light my course by other eyes?

Ah, no my dying lips shall close,
Unalter'd love, as faith, professing;
Nor, praising him who life bestows,
Forget who makes that gift a blessing!
My last address to Heaven is due;
The last but one is all-to you.

SIR CHARLES HANBURY WILLIAMS.

1756.

This eccentric satirist, the freedom of whose censure no consideration could restrain, who was admired, feared, and detested, was son of John Hanbury, Esq. a SouthSea Director. After having represented the county of Monmouth, for several years, he was installed a Knight of the Bath, in October 1744. In 1749, he was appointed envoy extraordinary and plenipotentiary to the court of Berlin, at which he had officiated as minister during the three preceding years. Sir Charles afterwards represented the borough of Leominster in parliament, till his embassy to Russia, in 1754. Returning to England, in consequence of an ill state of health, he died on the 2d of November, 1759.

He possessed considerable abilities, both poetical and political. More is not justly to be affirmed in favour of him, who appears to have been the votary of dissipation; who delighted in gratifying his own feelings, at the expence of those of others; and who often wanted courage to encounter the resentment that his temerity had provoked.

IMITATION OF MARTIAL.

COME, Chloe, and give me sweet kisses,
For sweeter sure girl never gave!

But why, in the midst of my blisses,
Do you ask me how many I'd have?
I'm not to be stinted in pleasure,

Then prithee, my charmer, be kind;
For whilst I love thee above measure,
To numbers I'll ne'er be confin'd.
VOL. II.

D

34

SIR CHARLES HANBURY WILLIAMS.

Count the bees that on Hybla are playing,

Count the flow'rs that enamel its fields; Count the flocks that on Tempe are straying, Or the grain that rich Sicily yields: Go number the stars in the heaven, Count how many sands on the shore: When so many kisses you've given, I still shall be craving for more.

To a heart full of love, let me hold thee;
To a heart which, dear Chloe, is thine!
With my arms I'll for ever enfold thee,

And twist round thy limbs like a vine.
What joy can be greater than this is?—
My life on thy lips shall be spent!
But the wretch that can number his kisses,
With few will be ever content.

THOMAS PENROSE.

1763.

Thomas, son of the Rev. Mr. Penrose, who was descended from an ancient family in Cornwall, and officiated many years as rector of Newbury, in Berkshire, was born in 1743. Designed by his friends for the pulpit, he was entered at Christ Church, Oxford; whence, however, a passion for martial glory prompted him to escape, and embark in the expedition against South America, under Captain Macnamara, in August 1762. The verses to Miss Slocock, an accomplished and handsome young lady, residing at Newbury, were written by him on board the Ambuscade, January 6, 1763; a short time before the attack on Nova Colonia, in the river of Plate. Such a situation not merely supersedes the investigation of literary inaccuracies; it exhibits the affection and fortitude of the writer, in a very elevated point of admiration. Returning to England, Penrose finished his studies at Hertford; and, having accepted the curacy of Newbury, in 1768 united himself in marriage with Miss S. Part of the hymeneal, presented to her on their wedding-day, is not unworthy of transcription.—

"O! be that season ne'er forgot
When hope itself could flatter not,
When doubts were all my soul's employ,
Nor dar'd I paint the present joy!
But yet, my Love! be mine the blame;
Thy goodness ever was the same.
What though by heedless heat misled,
To war, and foreign climes, I fled;
Forsook thy love, and peaceful ease;

And plough'd, long plough'd the southern seas;
Yet, though unworthy of thy care,
Thy kind dear love pursued me there
And, midst the battle's horrid strife,
Thy tender prayer preserv'd my life.

Some years afterwards, Penrose was advanced to a rectory worth 500 l. per annum : but preferment came too late. He died in 1779, in the 36th year of his age, at Bristol, whither he had repaired for the amendment of his health.

TO MISS S.

THE fates ordain, we must obey!
This, this is doom'd to be the day,
The hour of war draws near;
The eager crew, with busy care,
Their instruments of death prepare,
And banish every fear.

The martial trumpets call to arms,
Each breast with such an ardour warms
As Britons only know :
The flag of battle, waving high,
Attracts with joy each Briton's

With terror strikes the foe.

eye;

Amidst this nobly awful scene,
Ere yet fell slaughter's rage begin,
Ere death his conquests swell;
Let me to love this tribute pay,
For MARY frame the parting lay-
Perhaps, my last " farewell!"

For since full low among the dead-
Must many a gallant youth be laid,
Ere this day's work be o'er :
Perhaps ev'n I, with joyful eyes
That saw this morning's sun arise,
Shall see it set no more.