All sunk beneath the wave, Eight hundred of the brave, A land-breeze shook the shrouds, Toll for the brave! Brave Kempenfelt is gone; His last sea-fight is fought; His work of glory done. It was not in the battle; His sword was in its sheath; When Kempenfelt went down With twice four hundred men. Weigh the vessel up, Once dreaded by our foes! And mingle with our cup The tear that England owes. Her timbers yet are sound, And she may float again, Full charged with England's thunder, And plough the distant main. But Kempenfelt is gone, His victories are o'er; And he and his eight hundred Sept. 1782. N SUBMERSIONEM NAVIGII, CUI GEOR- PLANGIMUS fortes. Periêre fortes, Navis, innitens lateri, jacebat, Plangimus fortes. Nimis, heu, caducam Nec sinunt ultrà tibi nos recentes Magne, qui nomen, licèt incanorum, Non hyems illos furibunda mersit, Navitæ sed tum nimium jocosi Vos, quibus cordi est grave opus piumque, Hi quidem (sic dîs placuit) fuêre: IN BREVITATEM VITÆ SPATII HOMINIBUS CONCESSI BY DR. JORTIN. HEI mihi! lege ratâ sol occidit atque resurgit, Rursus nocte vigent. Humiles telluris alumni. ON THE SHORTNESS OF HUMAN LIFE. TRANSLATION OF THE FOREGOING. SUNS that set, and moons that wane, Rise and are restored again; Stars, that orient day subdues, Night at her return renews. Herbs and flowers, the beauteous birth Of the genial womb of earth, Suffer but a transient death From the winter's cruel breath. Zephyr speaks; serener skies Warm the glebe, and they arise. We, alas! earth's haughty kings, We, that promise mighty things, Losing soon life's happy prime, Droop, and fade, in little time. Spring returns, but not our bloom; Still 'tis winter in the tomb. Jan., 1784. THE LILY AND THE ROSE. THE nymph must lose her female friend, But where will fierce contention end, Within the garden's peaceful scene Appear'd two lovely foes, Aspiring to the rank of queen, The Lily and the Rose. The Rose soon redden'd into rage, The Lily's height bespoke command, She seem'd design'd for Flora's hand, This civil bickering and debate Yours is, she said, the nobler hue, Thus soothed and reconciled, each seeks The seat of empire is her cheeks, IDEM LATINE REDDITUM. HEU inimicitias quoties parit æmula forma, Hortus ubi dulces præbet tacitosque recessus, Ira Rosam et meritis quæsita superbia tangunt, Altior emicat illa, et celso vertice nutat, Ceu flores inter non habitura parem, Fastiditque alios, et nata videtur in usus Imperii, sceptrum, Flora quod ipsa gerat. Nec Dea non sensit civilis murmura rixæ, Cui curæ est pictas pandere ruris opes. |