SIR WILLIAM JONES. 1746-1794.

Than all Bocara's vaunted gold,

Than all the gems of Samarcand. A Persian Song of Hafiz.

Go boldly forth, my simple lay,
Whose accents flow with artless ease,
Like orient pearls at random strung.1

On parent knees, a naked new-born child,
Weeping thou sat'st while all around thee smiled;
So live, that, sinking in thy last long sleep,

Calm thou mayst smile, while all around thee weep.

Ibid.

From the Persian.

Men who their duties know,

But know their rights, and, knowing, dare maintain,

And sovereign law, that state's collected will,
O'er thrones and globes elate,

Sits empress, crowning good, repressing ill.2

Ode in Imitation of Alcæus.

Seven hours to law, to soothing slumber seven,
Ten to the world allot, and all to heaven.3

1 'T was he that ranged the words at random flung,
Pierced the fair pearls and them together strung.

Eastwick's Anvari Suhaili. Translated from Firdousi. 2 Neither walls, theatres, porches, nor senseless equipage, make states, but men who are able to rely upon themselves. — Aristides, ed. Jebb, Vol. i., translated by Arthur W. Austin.

By Themistocles alone, or with very few others, does this saying appear to be approved, which, though Alcæus formerly had produced, many afterwards claimed: "Not stones, nor wood, nor the art of artisans, make a state; but where men are who know how to take care of themselves, these are cities and walls."— - Ibid. Vol. ii.

* See lines quoted by Sir Edward Coke. Page 10.

Man is the nobler growth our realms supply,
And souls are ripened in our northern sky.

The Invitation

This dead of midnight is the noon of thought,
And Wisdom mounts her zenith with the stars.
A Summer's Evening Meditation.

It is to hope, though hope were lost.1

Life! we've been long together

Come Here, Fond Youth.

Through pleasant and through cloudy weather; 'Tis hard to part when friends are dear; Perhaps 't will cost a sigh, a tear;

Then steal away, give little warning,

Choose thine own time;

Say not "Good night," but in some brighter clime

Bid me "Good morning."

So fades a summer cloud away;

So sinks the gale when storms are o'er;

So gently shuts the eye of day;

So dies a wave along the shore.

Life.

The Death of the Virtuous.

1 Who against hope believed in hope. Romans iv. 18.

WOLCOT.-STOWELL.- O'KEEFE.

375

JOHN WOLCOT.1 1738-1819.

What rage for fame attends both great and small!
Better be d-d than mentioned not at all.

To the Royal Academicians.

Care to our coffin adds a nail, no doubt,
And every grin, so merry, draws one out.

Expostulatory Odes. Ode xv.

The elegant simplicity of the three per cents.

Campbell's Chancellors. Vol. x. Ch. 212.

JOHN O'KEEFE. 1747-1833.

A glass is good, and a lass is good,
And a pipe to smoke in cold weather;
The world is good, and the people are good,
And we 're all good fellows together.

Sprigs of Laurel. Act ii. Sc. 1.

1 "Peter Pindar." In a note to The Royal Town an epigram is quoted, ending, "T was a lucky escape for the stone," referring to a stone being flung at George III., and narrowly missing his head.

To those who know thee not, no words can paint! And those who know thee know all words are faint!

Since trifles make the sum of human things,
And half our misery from our foibles springs.

In men this blunder still you find,
All think their little set mankind.
Small habits well pursued betimes
May reach the dignity of crimes.

1 Hope told a flattering tale,

That Joy would soon return;

Ah! naught my sighs avail,
For Love is doomed to mourn.

Sensibility.

Ibid.

Florio. Part i.

Ibid.

Anon. Air by Giovanni Paisiello (1741-1816). Univ.
Songster, Vol. i. p. 320.

QUINCY.-LOGAN.-MOSS.

377

JOSIAH QUINCY. 1744-1775.

Blandishments will not fascinate us, nor will threats of a "halter" intimidate. For, under God, we are determined that, wheresoever, whensoever, or howsoever we shall be called to make our exit, we will die freeObservations on the Boston Port Bill, 1774.

men.

JOHN LOGAN. 1748-1788.

Thou hast no sorrow in thy song,
No winter in thy year.

O, could I fly, I'd fly with thee!
We'd make with joyful wing
Our annual visit o'er the globe,
Companions of the spring.

To the Cuckoo.

Ibid.

THOMAS MOSS. Circa 1740-1808.

Pity the sorrows of a poor old man,

Whose trembling limbs have borne him to your door, Whose days are dwindled to the shortest span ;

Oh! give relief, and Heaven will bless your store.

A pampered menial drove me from the door.1

The Beggar.

Ibid.

1 This line stood originally, "A livery servant," etc., and altered as above by Goldsmith.-Foster's Life of Goldsmith, Vol. i. p. 215, fifth edition, 1871.