The sumptuous feast, and ev’ry sensual joy, With noisy mirth each gloomy night infest; Still must REFLECTION’S piercing dart annoy, And such vile pleasures but disturb their rest. And yet some _tutors_ with a scanty fare Advise a PRISON, venial faults to mend: But Ah! they little know the anxious care, And less the danger which such schools attend. Can prudent maxims to a conscious mind Supply the place of HONOR’S gentler sway? Or can the dear-bought knowledge of mankind The loss of VIRTUE’S gen’rous flame repay? Many, by fond credulity betray’d, Their _happiness_ on other’s _honor_ stake; The faithless friends the angry laws evade, And honest friendship suffers for the rake. The sober citizen, whose hard-earn’d wealth, Is lost by sad vicissitude of trade, With heartfelt sorrow undermines his health While _Prudent_ Friends his losses still upbraid. Then by a cruel false deceiver led, Wearied with mis’ry, frantic with despair, The blooming Partner of his marriage bed, Adds Jealous anguish to his wretched care. For thee, who mindful of thy own mischance, Dost in these lines an artless tale relate; Some kindred spirit, or some friend perchance, In future times may mourn thy hapless fate. And when with dirges due, in sad array, Slow thro’ the church-way path thy corpse be borne, May these few lines compose the parting lay, Grav’d on a stone beneath an aged thorn. THE EPITAPH. Here rest his cares within the friendly earth, A YOUTH to fortune and to fame unknown; Some Dæmon frown’d upon his humble birth, And cheerless mis’ry marked him for her own. When youthful, virtues glow’d within his breast, Allur’d by Passion, by Example led, With Folly’s children he too warmly prest, And idle joys their baleful influence shed. But soon succeed these pleasures of the town, Th’ unfeeling persecution of the proud, With black misfortune’s sad terrific frown, And hard neglect of the unthinking crowd. Deserted by his friends, by all mankind, With silent anguish long he mourn’d his fate, With joyful hope his willing breast resign’d In expectation of an happier state. Around his grave the cypress wreath entwine, The Yew Tree’s shade shall add its solemn gloom; The tender fair to pity will incline, And drop a tear upon his early Tomb. ――――:o:―――― EPITAPH ON A LATE ADMINISTRATION. Here rest their Heads in Power’s and Honour’s grave, A band to Fortune and to Fame unknown: Fair Science never smil’d on their conclave, And Scorn and Weakness mark’d them for their own. Large were their means, yet constant their defeat, And France, deriding, mock’d their wild intentions; They gave to England, all they could――a debt; They gain’d from England, all they wish’d――their Pensions.