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His liftless length at noontide would he ftretch, • And pore upon the brook that babbles by.
• Hard by yon wood, now smiling as in fcorn, 105
Mutt'ring his wayward fancies he would rove, Now drooping, woeful wan, like one forlorn, • Or craz❜d with care, or crofs'd in hopeless love. One morn I mifs'd him on the cuftom'd hill,
Along the heath, and near his fav'rite tree; • Another came; nor yet befide the rill,
Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he; • The next with dirges due in fad array
Slow thro' the church-way path we faw him born.
Approach and read (for thou can't read) the lay, Grav'd on the ftone, beneath yon aged thorn.' *
HERE refts his head upon the lap of Earth
Between this line and the Epitaph, Mr. Gray originally inferted a very beautiful ftanza, which was printed in fome of the first editions, but afterwards omitted; becaufe be thought fand in my own opinion very july) that it was too Jong a parenthefis in this place. The lines however, are, in themselves, exquifitely fine, and demand prefervation.
There fcatter'd oft, the earliest of the year,
Fair Science frown'd not on his humble birth,
Or draw his frailties from their dread abode, (There they alike in trembling hope repofe,) The bofom of his Father and his God.
A MAKARONY FABLE.
BY JOHN HALL STEPHENSON, ESQ.
N concert with the curfew bell,
An Owl was chaunting Vespers in his cell ;
A Black Bird, famous in that age,
And took delight in Wanton Fancies.
All nature feem'd rapp'd and enchanted,
* Born 1718; dyed 1785.
This lively unexpected motion
To fill the belly of your foul.
Even here there are some holy men,
My good Lord Bishop, Mr. Dean,
From thy bewitching fnares and thee:
I feel my captive foul is free;
I cannot now, as heretofore,
Put on indifference or difdain,
Without a blush your name I hear,
No tranfient glow my bofom heats; And, when I meet your eye, my dear, My fluttering heart no longer beats.