Lovers are plenty, but fail to relieve me. But I will rally and combat the ruiner: Not a look, not a smile, shall my passion discover; She that gives all to the false one pursuing her, Makes but a penitent, and loses a lover. STANZAS ON THE TAKING OF QUEBEC. AMIDST the clamour of exulting joys, Which triumph forces from the patriot heart, Grief dares to mingle her soul-piercing voice, And quells the raptures which from pleasures start. Oh, Wolfe, to thee a streaming flood of woe Sighing we pay, and think e'en conquest dear; Quebec in vain shall teach our breasts to glow, Whilst thy sad fate extorts the heart-wrung tear. Alive the foe thy dreadful vigour fled, And saw thee fall with joy-pronouncing eyes: Yet they shall know thou conquerest, tho' dead! Since from thy tomb a thousand heroes rise. EPITAPH ON DR. PARNELL. THIS tomb, inscrib'd to gentle Parnell's name, And heav'n, that lent him genius, was repaid. The transitory breath of fame below: EPITAPH ON EDWARD PURDON'. HERE lies poor NED PURDON, from misery freed, Who long was a bookseller's hack; He led such a damnable life in this world- 1 This gentleman was educated at Trinity-college, Dublin; but having wasted his patrimony, he enlisted as a foot soldier. Growing tired of that employment, he obtained his discharge, and became a scribbler in the newspapers. He translated Voltaire's HENRIADE. AN ELEGY. ON THE GLORY OF HER SEX, MRS. MARY BLAIZE. GOOD people all, with one accord, Lament for Madam Blaize, Who never wanted a good word— The needy seldom pass'd her door, She strove the neighbourhood to please, With manners wond'rous winning, And never follow'd wicked ways— Unless when she was sinning. |