l her bards express,
My Lyce makes as good a sky,
And I but flatter less.

* * * * *

ON THE DEATH OF MR ROBERT LEVETT,

A PRACTISER IN PHYSIC.

1 Condemned to Hope's delusive mine,
As on we toil from day to day,
By sudden blasts, or slow decline,
Our social comforts drop away.

2 Well tried through many a varying year,
See Levett to the grave descend;
Officious, innocent, sincere,
Of every friendless name the friend.

3 Yet still he fills Affection's eye,
Obscurely wise and coarsely kind;
Nor, letter'd Arrogance, deny
Thy praise to merit unrefined.

4 When fainting Nature call'd for aid,
And hovering Death prepared the blow,
His vigorous remedy display'd
The power of Art without the show.

5 In Misery's darkest cavern known,
His useful care was ever nigh;
Where hopeless Anguish pour'd his groan,
And lonely Want retired to die.

6 No summons, mock'd by chill delay;
No petty gain, disdain'd by pride;
The modest wants of every day,
The toil of every day supplied.

7 His virtues walk'd their narrow round,
Nor made a pause, nor left a void;
And sure the Eternal Master found
The single talent well employ'd,

8 The busy day--the peaceful night,
Unfelt, unclouded, glided by;
His frame was firm--his powers were bright,
Though now his eightieth year was nigh.

9 Then with no fiery, throbbing pain,
No cold gradations of decay,
Death broke at once the vital chain,
And freed his soul the nearest way.

* * * * *

EPITAPH ON CLAUDE PHILLIPS,[1]

AN ITINERANT MUSICIAN.

Phillips! whose touch harmonious could remove
The pangs of guilty power and hapless love,
Rest here; distress'd by poverty no more,
Find here that calm thou gav'st so oft before;
Sleep undisturb'd within this peaceful shrine,
Till angels wake thee with a note like thine.

[Footnote 1: 'Claude Phillips:' a Welsh travelling fiddler, greatly
admired.]

* * * * *

EPITAPH

ON SIR THOMAS HANMER, BART.

Thou who survey'st these walls with curious eye,
Pause at this tomb where Hanmer's ashes lie;
His various worth through varied life attend, 3
And learn his virtues while thou mourn'st his end.

His force of genius