The Poetical Calendar, Containing a Collection of Scarce and Valuable Pieces of Poetry

ON THE OLD BUST,

WITH A SOUR AIR, ON MR. DRYDEN'S MONUMENT, IN WESTMINSTER-ABBEY.

T Dryden's tomb,infcrib'd withSh-d's name,

That mite, flow offer'd to establish'd fame! Fill'd with raw wonder, Tyro ftopt to gaze; And bless'd his bounteous Grace, in kind amaze; The guardian genius, from the facred duft, Re-kindling upwards, wak'd the quickening buft, Glowing from every awful feature-broke Difdainful life-and thus the marble spoke: "Teach thy blind love of honefty to fee, ""Tis not my monument, - tho' built on me. "Great peers, 'tis known, can in oblivion lie; "But no great poet has the power to die. "At cheap expence, behold engrafted fame! "The tack'd afsociate of a buoyant name. "The pompous craft one lucky lord fhall fave; "And Sh―d borrow life from Dryden's grave.” 'Twas faid—and, ere the short sensation died, The ftiffening marble writh'd its form afide: Back from the titled waste of mouldering state He turn'd-neglectful of the court, too late! And, fadly conscious of mifpointed praise, Frowns thro' the stone, and shrinks beneath his bays.

O N
N THE BIRTH-DA Y

O F THE

LATE STEPHEN POYNTZ, ESQ.

WRITTEN BY A YOUNG GENTLEMAN, WHEN
AT SCHOOL.

Riend to my life, and parent of my youth,

Accept with kindness, what I give with truth,
Accept! and know it undifguis'd by art,
Th' o'erflowing fullness of a grateful heart.
While joy returns with this returning morn,
And thousands blefs the day that Poyntz was born,
Shall I alone no pious wishes fend,

Forget the patron, and neglect the friend?

No; tho' my mind no coftly prefent prove,

Exalt my joy, and dignify my love,

Yet cheerful truth fhall aid the mufe to pay
The filent tribute of an humble lay;
Yet gratitude, that heaven-directed fire,
That muse shall raise, that humble lay inspire,
Glow in each thought, infpirit every line,
And, while it warms my breast, enliven thine.

Say, Poyntz, when, fmiling on thy natal hour,
Friend, neighbour, child, their various bleffings pour;
When

When love, unvex'd by troubles, or by cares,
Hails thy fair series of revolving years,

Does not more real blifs thy thoughts employ?
Does not thy fwelling heart dilate with joy?
Superior joy, to know those years were spent
With ease and virtue, affluence and content?
Yes, conscious honour, with true greatness join'd,
Smiles in thy face, and glows within thy mind:
In vain, unmov'd by falfe deluding pride,
The modeft breast would its own merits hide;
Still, gloriously conceal'd, true worth we fee
Take double luftre from obfcurity.

O! could I live like thee, with equal fate,
Politely good, and innocently great.
Each noble act, each generous thought, is thine;
Those acts, thofe thoughts, to imitate be mine.
Come thou, my guide, philofopher, and friend,
Conduct, improve, protect me, and defend;
Teach me, like thee, low fortune to despise,
Like thee, by virtue dignified, to rife;
Thro' life's calm voyage happily to steer,
Gay, not prefuming, grave, yet not severe.
Together let us view the claffic page,
The fophift's moral, and the poet's rage,
Pursue the calm advice, th' inspiring flame,
Compare, and know their generous end the fame.
O! did my humble artless breaft but know
The piercing judgment, or the active flow;

Sublime

Sublime the mufe should mount with stronger wing,
Thy peaceful worth, thy glorious toils to fing:
To thee, in loftier ftrains, the fong should raise,
And with the friend's unite the patriot's praise.
Even now, whilft grateful truths my breaft inflame,
I dare to celebrate the glorious theme,

And bold, the wilds of poetry explore
Thro' devious tracts, and paths unknown before.

CON

DE to February,

Spring. Addreffed to Myra,

CONTENT

Page 1

Stanzas, occafioned by the forwardness of the spring, 3

On the first of February,