LYRIC POEMS. While the pleas'd hours in sweet succession move, And minutes, measur'd as they are above, , By ever - circling joys, and ever - shining love. Anon our thoughts shou'd lower their lofty flight Sink by degrees, and take a pleasing sight, A large round prospect of the spreading plain, The wealthy river, and his winding tram, The smoky city, and the busy men. How we should smile to see degenerate worms Lavish their lives, and fight for airy forms Of painted honour, dreams ofempty sound, Till envy rise, and shoot a secret wound At swelling glory, straight the bubble breaks, And the scenes vanish, as the man awakes ; Then the tall titles insolent and proud Sink to the dust, and mingle with the crowd. Man is a restless thing : Still vain and wild, Lives beyondsixty, nor outgrows the child : His hurrying lusts still break the sacred bound To seek new pleasures on forbidden ground, And buy them all too dear. Unthinking fool, For a short dying joy to sell a deathless soul ! 'Tis but a grain of sweetness they can sow, And reap the long sad harvest of immortal woe. Another tribe toil in a different strife, And banish all the lawful sweets of life, To sweat and dig for gold, to hoard the ore, Hide the deardust yet darker than before, And never dare to use a grain of all the store. Happy the insu that knows the value just Of earthly things, nor is enslav'd to dust. 'Tis a rich gift the skies but rarely send To fav'rite souls. Then happy thou, my friend, For thou hadst learnt to manage and command The wealth that heav'n bestow'd with liberal hand: Hence this fair structure rose ; and hence this seat, Made to invite my not unwilling feet : In vain 'twas made! for we shall never meet, nd smile, and love, and bless each other here; The envious tomb forbids thy face t' appear, Detains thee, Gunton, from my longing eyes, And all my hopes lie bury'd where my Gunston lies. Come hither, all ye tend'rest souls, that know The heights of fondness, and the depths of woe; Young mothers, who your darling babes havefound Untimely murder'd with a ghastly wound ; Ye frighted nymphs, who on the bridal bed Clasp'd in your arms your lovers cold and dead ; Come, in the pomp of a Il your wild despair, With flowing eye -lids, and disorder'd hair, Death in your looks ; come, mingle grief with me, And drown your little streams in my unboundedsea. You sacred mourners of a nobler mould, Born for a friend, whose dear embraces hold Beyond all nature's ties; you that have known Two happy souls made intimately one, And felt a parting stroke : 'Tis you must tell The smart, the twinges, and the racks I feel : 303
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