Yet ev'n those bones from insult to protect
Some frail memorial ftill erected nigh,
With uncouth rhymes and shapeless sculpture deck'd
Implores the passing tribute of a sigh.

Their name, their years, spelt by the unletter'd Muse,
The place of fame and elegy supply:
And many a holy text around she strews,
That teach the rustic moralit to die.

For who to dumb Forgetfulness a prey,
This pleasing anxious being e'er resign'd,
Left the warm precincts of the chearsul day,
Nor cast one longing ling'ring look behind ?

On some fond breast the parting foul relies,
Some pious drops the closing eye requires ;
Ev'n from the tomb the voice of Nature cries,
Ev'n in our Alher live their wonted Fires.

For thee, who mindful of th' unhonour'd Dead
Doft in these lines their artless tale relate ;
if chance, by lonely Contemplation led,
Some kindred spirit shall enquire thy fate.

Haply some hoary-headed (wain may say,
• Oft' have we seen him at the peep of dawn

Brushing with hasty steps the dews away
• To meet the fun upon the upland lawn.
• There at the foot of yonder nodding beach
• That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high,
• His listless length at noon-tide would he stretch,
. And pore upon the brook that babbles by.
• Hard by yon wood, now smiling as in scoro,

Mutt'ring his wayward fancies he would rove; • Now drooping, woeful wan, like one forlorn, • Or craz’d with care, or cross’d in hopeless love.

« 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,

up the Lawn, nor at the wood was he ;

6 Nor

« The next with dirges due in fad array, • Slow through the church-way path we saw him born, • Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay, • Grav'd on the stone beneath yon aged thorn.'

HERE refts 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.

Large was his bounty, and his foul sincere,
Heav'n did a recompence as largely send:
He gave to Mis'ry all he had, a tear,
He gain'd from Heav'n ('twas all he wifl'd) a friend

No farther feek his merits to disclose,
Or draw his frailties from their droud abode
(There they alike in trembling hope repose)
The bofom of his Father, and bis God.

ORROWING, the Nine beneath yon blasted yew

Shed the bright drops of Pity's holy dew!
Mute are their tuneful tongues, extinct their fires ;
Yet not in silence sleep their silver lyres ;
To the bleak gale they vibrate sad and flow,
In deep accordance to a Nation's woe.

Ye, who ere while for Cook's illustrious brow Pluck'd the green laurel, and the oaken bough, Hung the gay garlands on the trophied oars, And

pour d his fame along a thousand shores, Strike the slow death-bell! weave the facred verse, And Atrew the cypress o'er his honor'd hearse ;

In fad proceflion wander round the shrine,
And weep him mortal whom ye sung divine !

Say first, what Pow'r inspir'd his dauntless breast With scorn of danger and inglorious rest, To quit imperial London's gorgeous plains, Where, robid in thousand tints, bright Pleasure reigns ; In cups of summer-ice her néctar pours, And twines, 'mid wintry snows, her roseate bow'rs? Where Beauty moves with undulating grace, Calls the sweet blush to wanton o'er her face, On each fond Youth her soft artillery tries, Aims her light smile, and rolls her frolic eyes?

What Pow'r inspir'd his dauntless breast to brave The scorch's Equator, and th' Antarctic wave ? Climes, where fierce suns in cloudless ardors shine, And pour the dazzling deluge round the Line ; The realms of frost, where icy mountains risc, 'Mid the pale summer of the polar fkies ?It was HUMANITY!-on coasts unknown, The shiv'ring natives of the frozen zone, And the swart Indian, as he faintly ttrays " Where Cancer reddens in the folar blaze." She bade him seek ; awon each inclement shore Plant the rich feeds of her exhaustless store ; Unite the favage hearts, and hoftile hands, In the firm compact of her gentle bands ; Strew her soft comforts o'er the barren plain, Sing her sweet lays, and confecrate her fane,

IT WAS HUMANITY!-O Nymph divine ! I see thy light step print the burning Line ! There thy bright eye the dubious pilot guides, The faint oar Itruggling with the scalding tides.On as thou lead'ft the bold, the glorious prow, Mild, and more mild, the doping fun-beams glow; Now weak and pale the leffen'd lustres play, As round th' horizon rolls the timid day i