EPITAPH

ON TWO SISTERS (TWINS) BURIED TOGETHER.

FAIR

AIR marble, tell to future days,

That here Two virgin SISTERS lie,

Whose lives employ'd each tongue in praise,
Whose death drew tears from ev'ry eye.

In stature, beauty, years, and fame,
Together as they grew, they shone;
So much ALIKE, so much the SAME,
Death quite mistook 'em both for ONE.

English Chronicle.

A MATRIMONIAL THOUGHT.

IN the sweet days of honey-moon,
With Kate's allurements smitten,
I lov'd her late, I lov'd her soon,
And call'd her dearest kitten:

But now my kitten's grown a cat,
And cross, like other wives;
O! by my soul, my honest Mat,

I fear she has nine lives!

Ibid.

JEWISH ECONOMY.

Two criminals, a Christian and a Jew,
Who'd been to honest feelings rather callous,
Were on a platform once expos'd to view,

Or come, as some folks call it, to the gallows;
Or, as of late, a quainter phrase prevails,
To weigh their weight upon the city scales.

In dreadful form the constables and shrieve,

The priest and ord'nary, and crowd attended,
Till fix'd the noose, and all had taken leave;
When the poor trembling Israelite befriended,
Heard, by express, from officer of state,
A gracious pardon quite reverse his fate.

Unmov'd he seem'd, and to the spot still sticking, Ne'er offers, tho' he's bid, to quit the place; Till in the air the other fellow kicking,

The sheriff thought that some peculiar grace, Some Hebrew form of silent deep devotion, Had for a while depriv'd him of his motion.

But being question'd, by the sheriff's orders—
Why not with proper officer retiring?
In tone of voice that on the marv❜lous borders,
While that his looks were to the beam aspiring,
"I only vait" said he, "before I coes"

"Ov Mister Catch to puy the ted man's clothes!" Peter Pindar.

ADDRESS TO A PICTURE OF PRUDENCE.

WHEN unrestrain'd my simple heart
Would let the world its follies see;
Thy wise reserve do thou impart,

And let me, Prudence, think on thee.

When Wit her dang'rous mirth supplies,
Provoking Laughter's heedless glee,

To check my fancies as they rise,
I'll turn my eyes to look on thee.

If prone to blab a gossip's tale,

And set the imprison'd secret free,
That look demure shall then prevail,
And, silent, I will copy thee.

If discord in my bosom rise,

And anger uncontrol'd would be,
I'll seek that form with eager eyes,
And calm my rage by viewing thee.

When lavish bounty guides my hand,
And thou shalt urge Discretion's plea;
My heart, resign'd to thy command,
Shall yield its impulse up to thee.

Sage goddess, on whose sober brow
I many a sapient maxim see,
Time bids me at thy shrine to bow,
And never more abandon thee.

By a Lady.

LINES

LAID UPON THE BOSOM OF A SLEEPING INFANT.

REST, lovely Babe! while watchful by
A mother guards thy slumbers sweet,
Who loves to meet thy op'ning eye,
And joys thy beaming smile to greet.

O, time will come, when anguish-torn,
In vain thou❜lt seek her lulling breast;
Condemn'd, alas! to wake and mourn,
When the fond parent sinks to rest.

May'st thou, dear boy, when age has strung
Thy frame, thus fair, with sinewy force,

Still hold rever'd the sacred tongue

That form'd the infant in its course.

Joy that no harsh ungracious sound
Has ever hurt thy tender ear;

Then the sad earth that clasps her round

Will not be injur'd by thy tear.

English Chronicle.

EPITAPH.

To this sad shrine, whoe'er thou art, draw near, Here lies the friend most lov'd, the wife most dear; No conquest she but o'er herself desir'd,

No art essay'd, but not to be admir'd;

Passion and pride were to her soul unknown,
Convinc'd that virtue only is our own;

Who ne'er knew joy but friendship might divide,
Or gave her husband grief-but when she dy'd.

Ibid.

THE LICENCE OF TRAVELLING.

ONE of those talkers, who themselves admire, Strange stories tell, and say they hate a liar, As he was holding forth one day, 'Mongst other things was heard to say: "On Dover beach (I think 'twas there) A friend of mine caught a sea horse, He train❜d him up with special care,

And round his fields would make him course. Riding one morn th' amphibious creature,

Rashly too near the sea he went;

The marine horse, as was his nature,

No sooner snuff'd the briny scent,
But in he plung'd, with him he bore,
And ne'er was seen or heard of more."