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» Another came; nor yet beside the rill,

» Nor

up the lawn, nor at the wood was he:

>> The next, with dirges due, in sad

array,

» Slow thro' the church-way path we saw him borne.

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Approach, and read, for thou canst read, the lay

>> Grav'd on the stone, beneath yon aged thorn. »

THE EPITAPH.

HERE rests 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.

A

Large was his bounty, and his soul 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 wish'd, a friend.

No farther seek his merits to disclose,

Or draw his frailties from their dread abode,
There they alike in trembling hope repose,
The bosom of his father and his God.

» Le lendemain encore il manqua dans la plaine, » Le ruisseau ne vit point arriver son ami.

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Enfin, le jour d'aprés, devers le cimetière,

» Nous vimes lentement cheminer son cercueil. » O vous qui savez lire, approchez de la pierre ; » Lisez ces mots gravés au bas de ce tilleul: »

ÉPITAPHE.

ICI repose en paix, dans le sein de la terre,
Un jeune homme étranger à la gloire, au bonheur;
La science n'a point dédaigné sa misère,

Et la mélancolie a consolé son cœur.

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Pauvre, la bienfaisance avait pour lui des charmes;
Triste, à ses voeux le ciel une fois a souri :
Tout ce qu'il put donner, il le donna.... des larmes;
Tout ce qu'il desirait, il l'obtint..... un ami.

Etranger, respectez son obscure existence,
Ses fautes, ses vertus, dans ce terrible lieu,
Tout est enseveli; sa tremblante espérance
Repose dans le sein de son père, son Dieu.

LORD LYTTLETON.

SOLILOQUY

OF A BEAUTY IN THE COUNTRY.

'Twas night, and Flavia to her room retir'd,
With ev'ning chat and sober reading tir'd;
There, melancholy, pensive, and alone,'
She meditates on the forsaken town;

On her rais'd arm reclin'd her drooping head
She sigh'd, and thus in plaintive accents said :
Ah! what avails it to be young and fair,
To move with negligence, to dress with care?
What worth have all the charms our pride can boast,
If all in envious solitude are lost?

Where none admire, 'tis useless to excell;
Where none are beaus, 'tis vain to be a belle.
Beauty, like wit, to judges should be shown;
Both most are valued where they best are known.
With ev'ry grace of nature, or of art,

We cannot break one stubborn country heart;

LORD LYTTLETON.

MONOLOGUE

D'UNE BEAUTÉ A LA CAMPAGNE.

MINUIT Sonnait, quand la jeune Flavie,
Dans le salon laissant la compagnie,
Remonta seule à son appartement.
Là, regrettant la ville et le beau monde,
Triste, livrée à sa douleur profonde,
'Elle s'assied, et dit en soupirant:

Hélas! que sert d'être jeune et jolie,
De réunir mille attraits enchanteurs,
Si, dans les champs, perdue, ensevelie,
Il faut languir loin des adorateurs?
Comme l'esprit, la beauté veut paraître ;
N'être
pas vue, autant vaut ne pas être !
Où nul n'admire, à quoi sert de charmer?
Et pourquoi plaire où nul ne sait aimer?
De ces habits la facile élégance,
De ce maintien l'heureuse négligence,

The brutes, insensible, our pow'r defy
To love exceeds a 'squire's capacity.

The town, the court, is beauty's proper sphere;

That is our heav'n, and we are angels there.
In that circle thousand Cupids rove,

gay

The court of Britain is the court of Love.

How has my conscious heart with triumph glow'd, How have my sparkling eyes

their transports shew'd,

At each distinguish'd birth-night ball, to see
The homage due to empire, paid to me!
When ev'ry eye was fix'd on me alone,

And dreaded mine more than the monarch's frown.
When rival statesmen for my favour strove,
Less jealous in their pow'r, than in their love.
Chang'd is the scene; and all my glories die,
Like flow'rs transplanted to a colder sky.
Lost is the dear delight of giving pain,
The tyrant joy of hearing slaves complain.
In stupid indolence my life is spent
Supinely calm and dully innocent.
Unblest I wear my useless time away,

Sleep, wretched maid! all night, and dream all day;
Go at set hours to dinner and to pray'r;

For dullness ever must be regular.

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