Attend the counfel often told! Too often told in vain! Learn that best art, the art to hold Though beauty may the charm begin, A MORAL PICTURE. ALL hail to thee! thou peaceful lone retreat ! Where hofpitality has fix'd her feat, In humble poverty's fequefter'd cot. Those barren hills that bound yon dreary rocks, This little pasture, and the scanty flocks, By fervile tribes and fortune's minions fcorn'd, Remote from crowds, on schemes of grandeur bent, Here fimple Nature, fweetly unadorn'd, Dwells with her handmaids, Virtue and Content. Within this lowly hut, whofe tottering roof Tho Tho' fmall their income, ample is their mind, Together once they trod its early stage, One beauteous maid, dear pledge of nuptial love, She, while her parents cherish and improve, For her alone they wear a fhort-liv'd gloom, To leave her honeft, tho' they leave her poor. There the mild tranfports of the focial hour, Approach this rural fcene, ye little great, Come Come too, ye cruel, unrelenting fair, Who from your children banish Nature's friend, Here view the pattern of maternal care, And while contemplating that pattern, mend. Come, wearied indigence, forget thy woes, And tafte that comfort which the world denies. TO THE MEMORY OF A YOUNG LADY AGED EIGHTEEN. In vain our tears, lamented maid, are shed, In vain with fighs we mourn thine early doom; of woe can never reach the dead, The pangs Or pierce the filent manfions of the tomb; Yet facred fhade, the tributary figh Which friendship pays, as due to thee, receive; While 'tis the lot of worth like yours to die, It must be nature's privilege to grieve. Thy tender bofom is no longer warm, Thy cheeks will glow with blushes now no more ; Hence mortals learn, this truth by heav'n defign'd, And know, that all the virtues of the mind, R 4 Then Then while kind heav'n prolongs my fleeting breath, Thy bright example let me strive to be; That I may meet with joy the stroke of death, AN EPITAPH ON AN AMIABLE YOUNG LADY. As fhe was once, few of her fex you'll fee, As fhe is now, the brightest maid must be; She liv'd to die, who dying yet fhall live, While virtue, piety or love furvive; 14444 Her eyes on all around diffus'd delight, And nothing but her goodness fhone more bright, And virtue added beauty to her face; Her life for living was the jufteft plan, She charm'd as woman, and fhe thought as man*. *Praif's on tombs are trifles va'nly spent, A man's good name is his best monument. EPITAPH EPITAPH ON MISS DRUMMOND, DAUGHTER OF THE ARCHBISHOP OF YORK. BY MR. MASON. HERE fleeps what once was beauty, once was grace; Where beauty shines the mirror of the mind. Such was the maid, who in the morn of youth, Had with each art, which owes its charms to truth, He weeps! O, venerate the holy tear! Faith lends her aid to eafe affliction's load: The parent mourns his child upon the bier ; CONSOLATORY VERSES. ADDRESSED BY MRS. PILKINGTON TO HER HUSBAND. No more, lov'd partner of my foul, At disappointments grieve; R 5 Ad |