TO A YOUNG FRIEND,

ON HIS ARRIVING AT CAMBRIDGE WET, WHEN NO RAIN BAD FALLEN THERE, — 1793.

IF Gideon's fleece, which drenched with dew he found,

While moisture none refresh'd the herbs around,
Might fitly represent the Church, endow'd
With heavenly gifts, to Heathens not allow'd;
In pledge, perhaps, of favours from on high,
Thy locks were wet when others' locks were dry.
Heaven grant us half the omen-may we see
Not drought on others, but much dew on thee!

TO THE MEMORY OF DR. LLOYD.

OUR good old friend is gone, gone to his rest.
Whose social converse was itself a feast.
O ye of riper age, who recollect

How once ye loved, and eyed him with respect,
Both in the firmness of his better day,

While yet he ruled you with a father's sway
And when impair'd by time and glad to rest,
Yet still with looks, in mild complaisance drest,
He took his annual seat, and mingled here
His sprightly vein with yours-now drop a tear.
In morals blameless as in manners meek,
He knew no wish that he might blush to speak;
But, happy in whatever state below

And richer than the rich in being so,

Obtain'd the hearts of all, and such a meed
At length from One,* as made him rich indeed.
Hence then, ye titles, hence, not wanted here,
Go, garnish merit in a brighter sphere,

He was usher and under-master of Westminster near fifty years, and retired from his occupation when he was near seventy, with a handsome pension from the king.

The brows of those whose more exalted lot
He could congratulate, but envied not.

Light lie the turf, good Senior! on thy breast, And tranquil as thy mind was, be thy rest! Though, living, thou hadst more desert than fame, And not a stone now chronicles thy name.

ON FOP,

▲ DOG BELONGING TO LADY THROCKMORTON. AUGUST, 1792 THOUGH Once a puppy, and though Fop by name, Here moulders One whose bones some honour claim No sycophant, although of spaniel race,

And though no hound, a martyr to the chase-
Ye squirrels, rabits, leverets, rejoice,
Your haunts no longer echo to his voice;
This record of his fate exulting view,
He died worn out with vain pursuit of you.
'Yes,' the indignant shade of Fop replies-
And worn with vain pursuit man also dies.'

THE KND