If he wish to instruct, he must learn to delight;
Smooth, ductile, and even, his fancy must flow,
Must tinkle and glitter like gold to the sight,
And catch in its progress a sensible glow.

After all, he must beat it as thin and as fine

As the leaf that enfolds what an invalid swallows; For truth is unwelcome, however divine,

And unless you adorn it, a nausea follows.

TO THE REV. MR. NEWTON,

RECTOR OF ST. MARY WOOLNOTH.

SAYS the Pipe to the Snuff-box, "I can't understand
What the ladies and gentlemen see in your face,
That you are in fashion all over the land,

And I am so much fallen into disgrace.

"Do but see what a pretty contemplative air

I give to the company,-pray do but note 'em,—

You would think that the wise men of Greece were all there,
Or, at least, would suppose them the wise men of Gotham.

"My breath is as sweet as the breath of blown roses,
While you are a nuisance where'er you appear;
There is nothing but snivelling and blowing of noses,
Such a noise as turns any man's stomach to hear."

Then, lifting his lid in a delicate way,

And opening his mouth with a smile quite engaging, The Box in reply was heard plainly to say,

"What a silly dispute is this we are waging!

"If you have a little of merit to claim,

You may thank the sweet-smelling Virginian weed; And I, if I seem to deserve any blame,

The before-mentioned drug in apology plead.

"Thus neither the praise nor the blame is our own, No room for a sneer, much less a cachinnus ;

We are vehicles, not of tobacco alone,

But of any thing else they may choose to put in us." May 28, 1782.

A SIMILE LATINISED.

SORS adversa gerit stimulum, sed tendit et alas:
Pungit api similis, sed velut ista fugit.

VERSES TO THE MEMORY OF DR. LLOYD,*

SPOKEN AT THE WESTMINSTER ELECTION NEXT
AFTER HIS DECEASE.

ABIIT senex! periit senex amabilis !
Quo non fuit jucundior.
Lugete vos, ætas quibus maturior
Senem colendum præstitit;
Seu quando, viribus valentioribus
Firmoque fretus pectore,
Florentiori vos juventute excolens
Curâ fovebat patriâ ;

Seu quando, fractus, jamque donatus rude,
Vultu sed usque blandulo,

Miscere gaudebat suas facetias

His annuis leporibus.

Vixit probus, purâque simplex indole,
Blandisque comis moribus,

Et dives æquâ mente-charus omnibus,
Unius auctus munere.

Ite tituli meritis beatioribus

Aptate laudes debitas!

Nec invidebat ille, si quibus favens
Fortuna plus arriserat.

Placide senex! levi quiescas cespite,

Etsi superbum nec vivo tibi

Decus sit inditum, nec mortuo
Lapis notatus nomine.

THE SAME IN ENGLISH.

OUR good old friend is gone, gone to his rest,
Whose social converse was, itself, a feast.
O ye of riper age, who recollect

How once ye loved, and eyed him with respect,
Both in the firmness of his better day,
While yet he ruled you with a father's sway,
And when, impaired by time and glad to rest,
Yet still with looks in mild complacence drest,

* I make no apology for the introduction of the following lines, though I have never learned who wrote them. Their elegance will sufficiently recommend them to persons of classical taste and erudition, and I shall be happy if the English version that they have received from me be found not to dishonour them. Affection for the memory of the worthy man whom they celebrate alone prompted me to this endeavour.-W. COWPER.

He was Usher and Under-master of Westminster nearly fifty years, and retired from his occupation when he was near seventy, with a handsome pension from the king. [Hayley.]

He took his annual seat and mingled here
His sprightly vein with yours—now drop a tear.
In morals blameless as in manners meek,

He knew no wish that he might blush to speak,
But, happy in whatever state below,

And richer than the rich in being so,

Obtained the hearts of all, and such a meed
At length from one,* as made him rich indeed.
Hence, then, ye titles; hence, not wanted here;
Go, garnish merit in a brighter sphere,
The brows of those whose more exalted lot

He could congratulate, but envied not.

Light lie the turf, good senior! on thy breast,
And tranquil as thy mind was be thy rest!

Though, living, thou hadst more desert than fame,
And not a stone now chronicles thy name.

FRIENDSHIP.

WHAT Virtue, or what mental grace,

But men unqualified and base

Will boast it their possession?

Profusion apes the noble part
Of Liberality of heart,

And Dulness of Discretion.

If every polished gem we find,
Illuminating heart or mind,
Provoke to imitation,

No wonder friendship does the same,
That jewel of the purest flame,

Or rather constellation.

No knave but boldly will pretend
The requisites that form a friend,
A real and a sound one;
Nor any fool he would deceive,
But prove as ready to believe,

And dream that he had found one.

Candid, and generous, and just,
Boys care but little whom they trust,-
An error soon corrected;

For who but learns in riper years
That man, when smoothest he appears,
Is most to be suspected?

But here again a danger lies,
Lest, having misapplied our eyes,
And taken trash for treasure,
We should unwarily conclude
Friendship a false ideal good,
A mere Utopian pleasure.

An acquisition rather rare
Is yet no subject of despair;
Nor is it wise complaining,
If either on forbidden ground,
Or where it was not to be found,
We sought without attaining.
No Friendship will abide the test
That stands on sordid interest,

Or mean self-love erected;
Nor such as may a while subsist
Between the sot and sensualist,

For vicious ends connected.

Who seeks a friend should come dis-
posed

To exhibit, in full bloom disclosed,
The graces and the beauties
That form the character he seeks ;
For 'tis a union that bespeaks
Reciprocated duties.

* See the note to the Latin copy.