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Man's not worth a moment's pain,
Base, ungrateful, fickle, vain.
Then let me, sequester'd fair,
To your sybil grot repair ;
On yon hanging cliff it stands,
Scoop'd by nature's salvage hands,
Bosom'd in the gloomy shade
Of cypress not with age decay'd.
Where the owl still-hooting sits,
Where the bat incessant flits,
There in loftier strains I'll sing
Whence the changing seasons spring,
Tell how storms deform the skies,
Whence the waves subside and rise,
Trace the comet's blazing tail,
Weigh the planets in a scale;
Bend, great God, before thy shrine,
The bournless macrocosm's thine.

The remainder of this ode, which is rather tedious, has been omitted.

JOHN GILBERT COOPER,

(BORN 1723-DIED 1769) Was of an ancient family in Nottinghamshire, and possessed the estate of Thurgaton Priory, where he exercised the active and useful duties of a magistrate. He resided, however, occasionally in London, and was a great promoter of the Society for the Encouragement of Arts and Manufactures. He died at his house in May-fair, after a long and excruciating illness, occasioned by the stone. He was a zealous pupil of the Shaftesbury school; and published, besides his Poems, a Life of Socrates, Letters on Taste, and Epistles to the Great from Aristippus in retirement.

SONG.

AWAY! let nought to love displeasing,

My Winifreda, move your care;
Let nought delay the heavenly blessing,

Nor squeamish pride, nor gloomy fear.

What though no grants of royal donors
With
pompous

titles

grace our blood, We'll shine in more substantial honours,

And, to be noble, we'll be good.

Our name, while virtue thus we tender,

Will sweetly sound where'er 'tis spoke; And all the great ones, they shall wonder

How they respect such little folk,

What though, from Fortunes lavish bounty,

No mighty treasures we possess ; We'll find, within our pittance, plenty,

And be content without excese.

Still shall each kind returning season

Sufficient for our wishes give;
For we will live a life of reason,

And that's the only life to live.

Through youth and age, in love excelling,

We'll hand in hand together tread;
Sweet-smiling peace shall crown our dwelling,

And babes, sweet-smiling babes, our bed.

How should I love the pretty creatures,

While round my knees they fondly clung! To see them look their mother's features,

To hear them lisp their mother's tongue! And when with envy Time transported,

Shall think to rob us of our joys; You'll in your girls again be courted,

And I'll go wooing in my boys.

JAMES MERRICK.

BORN 1720.-DIED 1769.

James MERRICK was a fellow of Trinity college, Oxford, where Lord North was one of his pupils. He entered into holy orders, but never could engage in parochial duty from being subject to excessive pains in his head. He was an eminent Grecian, and translated Tryphiodorus at the age of twenty. Bishop Lowth characterized him as one of the best

of

men, and most eminent of scholars. His most important poetical work is his version of the Psalms ; besides which he published poems on sacred subjects.

THE WISH.

How short is life's uncertain space !

Alas! how quickly done!
How swift the wild precarious chace !
And
yet

how difficult the race !
How very hard to run !

Youth stops at first its wilful ears

To wisdom's prudent voice;
Till now arriv'd to riper years,
Experienc'd age, worn out with cares,

Repents its earlier choice.

What though its prospects now appear

So pleasing and refin'd;
Yet groundless hope, and anxious fear,
By turns the busy moments share,

And prey upon the mind.

Since then false joys our fancy cheat

With hopes of real bliss ;
Ye guardian pow'rs that rule my fate,
The only wish that I create
* Is all compriz'd in this.

May 1, through life's uncertain tide,

Be still from pain exempt !
May all my wants be still supplied,
My state too low to admit of pride,

And yet above contempt!

But should your providence divine
А greater

bliss intend;
May all those blessings you design,
(If e'er those blessings shall be mine)

Be center'd in a friend!

WILLIAM FALCONER.

BORN 1730.-DIED 1769.

WILLIAM FALCONER was the son of a barber in Edinburgh, and went to sea at an early age in a merchant vessel of Leith. He was afterwards mate of a ship that was wrecked in the Levant, and was one of only three out of her crew that were saved, a catastrophe which formed the subject of his future poem. He was for some time in the capacity of a servant to Campbell, the author of Lexiphanes, when purser of a ship. Campbell is said to have discovered in Falconer talents worthy of cultivation, and when the latter distinguished himself as a poet, used to boast that he had been his scholar. What he

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