Epitaph To The Memory Of A Worthy Man, The Rev. Mr. Sleep, Curate Of Kingswear Church, Devon, Whose Devotional Elocution Was Remarkably Impregnated With Soporific Qualities.
Bristol! in vain thy rocks attempt the sky, The wild woods waving on their giddy brow; And vainly, devious Avon! vainly sigh Thy waters, winding thro' the vales below; - ...
When men exert their utmost pow'rs, To while away the tedious hours, With soothing Flatt'ry's art, When ev'ry art and work well skill'd, And ev'ry look with poison fill'd, Assail a woman's heart, ...
How like is childhood to the lucid tide That calmly wanders thro' the mossy dell, Sweeps o'er the lily by the margin's side, And, as it kisses, murmurs out, Farewell!
The sign of the house should be chang'd, I'll be sworn, Where enchanted we find so much beauty and grace; Then quick from the door let the lion be torn, And an angel expand her white wings in his place.
Whilst, in a dress that one might swear The whole was made of woven air, Pert Fashion spreads her senseless sway Over the giddy and the gay (Who think, by showing all their charms,...
Adieu! dear girl! if we are doom'd to part, Take with thee, take, the blessing of this heart, Due to thy gentle mind, and cultur'd sense; Perhaps 'twill please, but, sure, can't give offence....
Go, little flutt'rer! seek thy feather'd loves, And leave a wretched mourner to his woe; Seek out the bow'rs of bliss, seek happier groves, Nor here unheeded let thy music flow. ...
When lovely Delphine sought the crowded scene, The painter's mimic pow'r no longer mov'd; All turn'd to gaze upon her beauteous mien, None envied her, for, as they look'd, they lov'd. ...
Go, faithless bloom! on Delia's cheek Your boasted captivations try; Alas! o'er Nature would you seek To gain one moment's victory? Her softer tint, sweet look, and gentle air,...
Oh! why does sorrow shade thy face, Where mind and beauty vie with grace? Say, dost thou for thy hero weep, Who gallantly, upon the deep, Is gone to tell the madd'ning foe,...
Tho' nought, amid these darkened groves, But various groups of death appear, Scar'd at the sight, tho' fly the Loves, And Sickness saddens all the year,
Dire were the horrors of that ruthless storm, That for young Lycid form'd a wat'ry grave; Oh! many wept to see his fainting form Unaided sink beneath th' o'erwhelming wave. ...