Nor some reproof yourself refuse
From your aggrieved bow-wow:

If killing birds be such a crime,
(Which I can hardly see.)
What think you, Sir, of killing time
With verse address'd to me!

TO WILLIAM HAYLEY, ESQ. DEAR architect of fine chateaux in air. Worthier to stand forever, if they could, Than any built of stone or yet of wood, For back of royal elephant to bear!

O for permission from the skies to share,

Much to my own, though little to thy good, With thee (not subject to the jealous mood!) A partnership of literary ware!

But I am bankrupt now; and doom'd henceforth
To drudge, in descant dry, on others' lays;
Bards, I acknowledge, of unequall'd birth!
But what his commentator's happiest praise?

That he has furnish'd lights for other eyes, Which they who need them use, and then despise.

June 29, 1793.

ANSWER

To Stanzas addressed to Lady Hesketh, by Miss Catharine Fanshawe, in returning a Poem of Mr. Cowper's, lent to her, on condition she should neither show it, nor take a copy.

To be remember'd thus is fame,
And in the first degree:
And did the few like her the same,
The press might sleep for me.
So Homer in the memory stored
Of many a Grecian belle,

Was once preserved -a richer hoard,
But never lodged so well.

1793.

ON FLAXMAN'S PENELOPE. THE suitors sinn'd, but with a fair excuse, Whom all this elegance might well seduce; Nor can our censure on the husband fall, Who for a wife so lovely, slew them all. September, 1793.

TO THE SPANISH ADMIRAL COUNT

GRAVINA,

On his translating the Author's Song on a Rose into
Italian Verse.

My rose, Gravina, blooms anew,
And steep'd not now in rain,
But in Castilian streams by you,
Will never fade again

1793.

INSCRIPTION

FOR THE TOMB OF MR. HAMILTON.

PAUSE here, and think: a monitory rhyme
Demands one moment of thy fleeting time.

Consult life's silent clock, thy bounding vein, Seems it to say-"Health here has long to reign?"

Hast thou the vigor of thy youth? an eye That beams delight? a heart untaught to sigh Yet fear. Youth, ofttimes healthful and at ease. Anticipates a day it never sees;

And many a tomb, like Hamilton's, aloud Exclaims Prepare thee for an early shroud."

EPITAPH ON A HARE.

HERE lies, whom hound did ne'er pursue,
Nor swifter greyhound follow,
Whose foot ne'er tainted morning dew,
Nor ear heard huntsman's halloo;

Old Tiney, surliest of his kind,

Who, nursed with tender care,
And to domestic bounds confined,
Was still a wild Jack hare.

Though duly from my hand he took
His pittance every night,
He did it with a jealous look,

And, when he could, would bite.

His diet was of wheaten bread

And milk, and oats, and straw; Thistles, or lettuces instead,

With sand to scour his maw.

On twigs of hawthorn he regaled,
On pippins' russet peel,
And when his juicy salads fail'd
Sliced carrot pleased him well.

A turkey carpet was his lawn,

Whereon he loved to bound,
To skip and gambol like a fawn,
And swing his rump around.

His frisking was at evening hours,
For then he lost his fear,
But most before approaching showers,
Or when a storm drew near.

Eight years and five round rolling moons
He thus saw steal away,
Dozing out all his idle noons,
And every night at play.

I kept him for his humor's sake,
For he would oft beguile

My heart of thoughts that made it ache,
And force me to a smile.

But now beneath this walnut shade
He finds his long last home,
And waits in snug concealment laid,
Till gentler Puss shall come.

He still more aged. feels the shocks,
From which no care can save,
And. partner once of Tiney's box,
Must soon partake his grave.