At church, in silks and sattins new, Her love was sought, I do aver, The king himself has follow'd her- But now her wealth and finery fled, The doctors found, when she was dead-▾ Let us lament, in sorrow sore, For Kent-street well may say, That had she liv'd a twelvemonth more→→ She had not died to-day. A SONNET. WEEPING, murmuring, complaining, Lost to every gay delight; Myra, too sincere for feigning, Fears th' approaching bridal night. Yet why impair thy bright perfection? Or dim thy beauty with a tear? Had Myra follow'd my direction, She long had wanted cause of fear. SONG. FROM THE ORATORIO OF THE CAPTIVITY. THE wretch condemn'd with life to part, Still, still on hope relies; And ev'ry pang that rends the heart, Bids expectation rise. Hope, like the glimmʼring taper's light, Adorns and cheers the way; And still, as darker grows the night, K SONG. O MEMORY! thou fond deceiver, To former joys recurring ever, Thou, like the world, th' opprest oppressing, WHAT! no way left to shun th' inglorious stage, Scarce half alive, oppress'd with many a year, With honest thrift I held my honour dear: * This translation was first printed in one of our Author's earliest works, "The Present State of Learning in Europe," 12mo, 1759. |