7 Some joy still lost, as each vain year runs o'er, Let joy or ease, let affluence or content, Peaceful sleep out the Sabbath of the tomb, TO MR THOMAS SOUTHERN,1 ON HIS RESIGN'D to live, prepared to die, This day Tom's fair account has run Presents her harp 3 still to his fingers. 'Southern author of 'Oronooko,' &c. He lived to the age of eighty-six. -2A table' he was invited to dine on his birthday with this nobleman, who had prepared for him the entertainment of which the bill of fare is here set down.Harp: the Irish harp was woven on table-cloths, &c. VARIATION. VER. 15. Originally thus in the MS. :- stroy, Die, by some sudden ecstasy of joy; In some soft dream may thy mild soul remove, The feast, his towering genius marks May Tom, whom Heaven sent down to raise 9 20 TO MR JOHN MOORE, AUTHOR OF THE CELEBRATED WORM-POWDER. 1 How much, egregious Moore, are we 2 Man is a very worm by birth, 3 That woman is a worm, we find E'er since our grandame's evil; She first conversed with her own kind, That ancient worm, the Devil. ''Prologues:' Dryden used to sell his prologues at four guineas each, till, when Southern applied for one, he demanded six, saying, 'Young man, the players have got my goods too cheap.' 4 The learn'd themselves we book-worms name, The blockhead is a slow-worm; The nymph whose tail is all on flame, 5 The fops are painted butterflies, First from a worm they take their rise, 6 The flatterer an earwig grows ; Thus worms suit all conditions; Misers are muck-worms, silk-worms beaux, 7 That statesmen have the worm, is seen That gnaws them night and day. 8 Ah, Moore! thy skill were well employ'd, If thou couldst make the courtier void 9 O learned friend of Abchurch Lane, Who sett'st our entrails free! Vain is thy art, thy powder vain, Since worms shall eat even thee. 10 Our fate thou only canst adjourn Even Button's Wits to worms shall turn, TO MR C., ST JAMES'S PLACE. 1 FEW words are best; I wish you well: Bethel, I'm told, will soon be here; And evening friends, will end the year. 2 If in this interval, between The falling leaf and coming frost, Your friend, your poet, and your host: 3 For three whole days you here may rest EPITAPHS. I. ON CHARLES EARL OF DORSET, IN THE CHURCH OF WITHYAM, IN SUSSEX. DORSET, the grace of courts, the Muses' pride, His anger moral, and his wisdom gay. ''Mr C.: ' Mr Cleland, whose residence was in St James's Place, where he died in 1741. See preface to 'The Dunciad.' Bless'd satirist! who touch'd the mean so true, II. ON SIR WILLIAM TRUMBULL.1 A PLEASING form; a firm, yet cautious mind; Such this man was; who now, from earth removed, III. ON THE HON. SIMON HARCOURT, ONLY SON OF THE LORD CHANCELLOR HARCOURT, AT THE CHURCH OF STANTON HARCOURT, IN OXFORDSHIRE, 1720. To this sad shrine, whoe'er thou art, draw near; Trumbull:' one of the principal Secretaries of State to King William III., who, having resigned his place, died in his retirement at Easthamstead, in Berkshire, 1716. |