Whence has the world her magick pow'r? Why deem we death a foe? Recoil from weary life's best hour, And covet longer wo? The cause is Conscience-Conscience oft Her tale of guilt renews; Then, anxious to be longer spar'd, 'Tis judgment shakes him, there's the fear Pay!-follow Christ, and all is paid: ON A SIMILAR OCCASION, FOR THE YEAR 1793. De sacris autem hoc sic una sententia, ut conserventur. Cic. de Leg. But let us all concur in this one sentiment, that things sacred be inviolate. He lives, who lives to God alone, And all are dead beside; For other source than God is none To live to God is to requite But life, within a narrow ring Is falsely nam'd, and no such thing, Can life in them deserve the name, Who only live to prove For what poor toys they can disclaim Who much diseas'd, yet nothing feel; Who deem his house a useless place, Who trample order; and the day, If scorn of God's commands, impress'd Such want it, and that want uncur'd Sad period to a pleasant course! Yet so will God repay Sabbaths profan'd without remorse, And mercy cast away. INSCRIPTION, FOR THE TOMB OF MR. HAMILTON. PAUSE here, and think: a monitory rhyme Demands one moment of thy fleeting time. Consult life's silent clock, thy bounding vein; And many a tomb, like Hamilton's aloud EPITAPH ON A HARE. HERE lies, whom hound did ne'er pursue, Old Tiney, surliest of his kind, Though duly from my hand he took He did it with a jealous look, His diet was of wheaten bread, On twigs of hawthorn he regal'd, And, when his juicy salads fail'd, A turkey carpet was his lawn, His frisking was at ev'ning hours, But most before approaching show'rs, Eight years and five round rolling moons He thus saw steal away, Dozing out all his idle noons, And ev'ry night at play. I kept him for his humour's sake, My heart of thoughts, that made it ache, But now beneath this walnut shade And waits, in snug concealment laid, |