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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.
Elegy in a Country Churchyard. Stanza 28.

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
The Epitaph.

Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere,
Heav'n did a recompense as largely send:
He gave to mis'ry (all he had) a tear,

He gain'd from heav'n ('t was all he wish'd) a

friend.

No farther seek his merits to disclose,

Ibid.

Or draw his frailties from their dread abode, (There they alike in trembling hope repose,)

The bosom of his Father and his God.

Ibid.

And weep the more, because I weep in vain.
Sonnet. On the Death of Mr. West.

The hues of bliss more brightly glow,
Chastis'd by sabler tints of woe.

Ode on the Pleasure arising from Vicissitude. Line 45.

The meanest floweret of the vale,

The simplest note that swells the gale,

1 But God, who is able to prevail, wrestled with him; marked him for his own. - Walton, Life of Donne.

The common sun, the air, the skies,

To him are opening paradise.

Ode on the Pleasure arising from Vicissitude. Line 53.
And hie him home, at evening's close,
To sweet repast and calm repose. Line 87.
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.

The social smile, the sympathetic tear.

Line 93.

Education and Government.

When love could teach a monarch to be wise, And Gospel-light first dawn'd from Bullen's eyes.1

Rich windows that exclude the light,

And passages that lead to nothing.
A Long Story.

Too poor for a bribe, and too proud to importune;
He had not the method of making a fortune.
On his own Character.

A favorite has no friend.

On the Death of a Favorite Cat.

Now as the Paradisaical 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. 3d Series.

1 This was intended to be introduced in the "Alliance of Education and Government."-Mason, Vol. iii. p. 114.

RICHARD HURD.

1720-1808.

In this awfully stupendous manner, at which Reason stands aghast, and Faith herself is half confounded, was the grace of God to man at length manifested. Sermons. Vol. ii. p. 287.

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Such and so various are the tastes of men. Pleasures of the Imagination. Book iii. Line 567.

Than Timoleon's arms require,

And Tully's curule chair, and Milton's golden lyre.

Ode. On a Sermon against Glory. St. ii.

The man forget not, though in rags he lies, And know the mortal through a crown's disguise.

Epistle to Curio.

Seeks painted trifles and fantastic toys,

And eagerly pursues imaginary joys.

The Virtuoso. St. x.

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.1 Prologue on Quitting the Stage in 1776.

Let others hail the rising sun:

I bow to that whose course is run.2

On the Death of Mr. Pelham.

This scholar, rake, Christian, dupe, gamester,

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Not what we wish, but what we want. Hymn.

1 I would help others, out of a fellow-feeling.—Burton, Anatomy of Melancholy; Democritus to the Reader.

Non ignara mali, miseris succurrere disco.

Virgil, Æneid, Lib. i. 630.

2 Pompey . . . . bade Sylla recollect that more worshipped the rising than the setting sun. - Dryden's Plutarch, Clough's ed. iv. 66. Life of Pompey.

3 Our ships were British oak,
And hearts of oak our men.

S. J. Arnold, Death of Nelson.

MRS. GREVILLE. 17--17—.

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.

A Prayer for Indifference.

HORACE WALPOLE. 1717-1797.

Dignity of history.1

Advertisement to Letters to Sir Horace Mann.

Harry Vane, Pulteney's toad-eater.

Letter to Sir Horace Mann, 1742.

The world is a comedy to those that think,

a tragedy to those who feel.

Letter to Sir Horace Mann, 1770.

A careless song, with a little nonsense in it now and then, does not misbecome a monarch.2 Letter to Sir Horace Mann, 1774.

1 I shall cheerfully bear the reproach of having descended below the dignity of history.

Macaulay, History of England, Vol. i. Ch. 1.

2 A little nonsense now and then

Is relished by the wisest men.

Anon.

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