Proud of her task, and with a mother's

Exulting view'd his op'ning graces rise.

O! with what ardor did his piercing view,
Through every maze of nature, truth pursue!
Sacred to virtue and the muse, his breaft
With Heav'n's own lovelieft image was impreft. 50
Like Heav'n's eternal goodness unconfin'd,

His foul, with one fond with, embrac'd mankind:
For them his time, his cares were all employ'd;
Their griefs he felt, their happiness enjoy'd:
His parents now, in bitterness of pain,

55

Shall ask from Heaven and earth their son in vain:

In vain, his friends, with pious gifts fhall tell-
How gay he blossom'd, and how early fell.

Through all his frame a fever's fury reigns, # Confumes his vitals, and inflames his veins, a 60

In tears the falutary arts retreat,

And virtue views with pangs her darling's fate.

Here paufe, my friend, and with due candor own Affliction's cup not mix'd for thee alone;

Others, like thee, its dire contents must drain,
And share their full inheritance of pain.

65

But

But O! may brighter hours thy life attend;
Such as from Heaven on happy love defcend;
Such gleams, as still on confcious virtue fhine
By God and man approv'd, be ever thine.
May reason, arm'd with each perfuafive art,
Infpire thy precepts, as the guides thy heart:
Nor let thy foul the smallest portion know,
Of all my past distress, or present woe.

70

An EPITAPH on his FATHER.

ERE drop, benevolence, thy facred tear,

A friend of human kind reposes here:

A man, content himself, and God, to know;
A heart, with every virtue form'd to glow :
A foul fuperior to each mean disguise;
Truth's facred voice, and pity's melting eyes :
Beneath each preffure, uniformly great ;

In life untainted, unfurpriz'd by fate:

5

Such,

5

Such, tho' by obscur'd various ills, he fhone; Confol'd his neighbour's woes, and bore his own: 10 Heav'n faw, and fnatch'd from fortune's rage its

prey,

To share the triumphs of eternal day.

To Mrs. Ann Blacklock, the AUTHOR'S Mother.

With a Copy of the Scotch Edition of his Poems.

Thou! who gav'it me first this world t' explore,

Whose frame, for me, a mother's anguish bore; For me, whofe heart its vital current drain'd, Whose bofom nurs'd me, and whose arms sustain'd: What tho' thy fon, dependent, weak, and blind, 5 Deplore his wishes check'd, his hopes confin'd?. Tho' want, impending, cloud each chearless day, And death with life seem struggling for their prey? Let this confole, if not reward, thy pain, Unhappy he may live, but not in vain.

PRO

PROLOGUE to OTHELLO.

Spoken by Mr. Love, at the Opening of the Playhoufe in DUMFRIES.

Y

E fouls! by foft humanity infpir'd,

For gen'rous hearts and manners free admir'd; Where tafte and commerce, amicably join'd, Imbellish life, and cultivate the mind:

Without a blush you may fupport our stage;

No tainted joys fhall here

your view

To tickle fools with prostituted art,

engage.

Debauch the fancy, and corrupt the heart,
Let others stoop; fuch meannefs we defpife,
And please with virtuous objects virtuous eyes.

5

THE tender foul what dire convulfions tear, When whisp'ring villains gain th' incautious ear; How heav'nly mild, yet how intenfely bright,. Fair Innocence, tho' clouded, ftrikes the fight; What endless plagues from jealous fondness flow, 15 This night our faithful fcenes atteinpt to fhow:

No

No new-born whim, no hafty flash of wit;

But nature's dictates by great SHAKESPEARE writ.

IMMORTAL bard! who, with a mafter hand, Could all the movements of the foul command; 20 With pity footh, with terror shake her frame; In love diffolve her, or to rage inflame.

To taste and virtue, heav'n-defcended pair! While pleas'd we thus devote our art and care; To crown our ardor, let your fav'ring fmile Reward our hopes, and animate our toil: So may your eyes no weeping moments know, But when they share fome DESDAEMONA'S WOe.

2.5

PROLOGUE to HAMLET.
Spoken by Mr. LOVE, at DUMFRIES.

'NSPIR'D with pleasing hope to entertain,

I

While, hov'ring round, his laurel'd shade furveys What eyes fhall pour their tribute to his praise;

What