Yet in his death, and in his dying pray'r, Whilft morning dawns, night spreads her curtains dark; So liv'd, fo dy'd, the good old Man of Wark! Read what's below, give honor where you can, The one's a knight, the other an honest man. Sir Thomas lives, the laft of all his line, And fets his offspring up to public fale; keeps, And 'midit the howling tempeft foundly Пceps; Bids the poor widow, to encrease her fare, Like the cameleon, feed on putrid air. How wide the diff'rence, how distinct the mind, Twixt thofe two beings of the human kind! Defpis'd he lives, unmoan'd, unwept he'll die, Tho' fculptur'd bufts fhew where his reliques lie. Here many a fool fhall pass the filent place, And his contempt for fuch well-carn'd dif grace; Where'er they ftray beneath propitious skies, Bid us no more our ardent hopes avow, Not fo, my friends-while these gay scenes ye rove, Where youthful MILTON nurs'd his growing flame, Where GRAY in Fancy loom his raptures wove, Parfue the track that leads to living fame. As when to Glory's feats the Prophet flew, To his lov'd friend the mantle he refign'd, JOHNSON, bleft shade! fhall his on Piozzi view, His nervous fenfe with female foftnefs join'd. Thy cypress wreath, Melpomene, to gain GREATHEAD fhall fcorn thro' meaner walks to ftray; And MERRY pour his ever-varying ftrain, Crown'd by cach Mufe, the ferious and the gay. I too, allur'd by love of lofty rhyme, roar ; And much I hop'd from this infpiring clime, AR NO's rich vale and TIBUR'S claffic shore. Haply, I faid, the Mufe may there be found By me. Vain thought! To Genius close allied, For him with equal force the breathes around EARTHAM'S chill feat and LAVANT'S fcanty tide. Or take the waiter's place-an office harder, Here half-ftarv'd, meagre, and unwholesome food, There intellectual dainties fresh and good. For those who chuse the standing dish and big, Ox is the epic poem; grunting pig The whimp'ring elegy, whofe vexing whine The vapid paftoral may fairly pass; Small birds are novels, wild geefe old Some five moons past, your favour to attain, Arm'd cap-a-pie I fought the warlike plain; For your diverfion I a lover figh'd- When cover'd o'er with honourable dust, MILTON'S ARCADES. The heav'nly tune which none can hear Of human mold with grofs impurged ear. + Eartham in Suffex, the feat of Mr. Hayley, author of feveral celebrated modern poems, though beautified by his tafte, is naturally expofed and barren.-The Lavant is a ftream that flows under the walls of Chichester, and is so very insignificant, that its channel is fometimes entirely dry; yet the masterly compofitions of Collins, who lived in that neighbourhood, have made it vie with the most diftinguished rivers of antiquity. Alluding to the representation of the Siege of Damafcus, in which play Mr. Fector performed Phocyas. Once Once more, in flight array my troops I bring, And make my general mufter for the fpring; ADIES and Gentlemen-it is no fire! "Good God! what is't ?"-you inftantly require; I'm really in a moft confounded fright, Believe me-there's no EPILOGUE to-night. "No Epilogue?" I hear you wond'ring fay, "None ?"" Then, you cry, the devil take "the play. 66 "What? mult we difmal part, and feck our rain ; To climb Parnaffus could I boat the fkill, At this time is most lamentably scarce! Of that oracular, that wond'rous man, Whom Cheiterfield, with difappointment hot, Unfairly call'd a letter'd Hottentot. I thought of entertaining you with news, But lo! the world hath nothing to amufe: The dogs that like a Veltris danc'd a jig, That Solomon of brutes the learned pig, The wonder of each Cockney and his dame, No longer fill the kundred mouths of Fame; Like plays and operas they have had their Till pitying all-and ev'n thy foes forgiven, Thy candid fpirit-feeks its native heaven. Chichefer, May 8, 1786. D. EPITAPH on Dr. JOHNSON. By SOAME JENYNS, Efq. H' ERE lies poor Johnson ! Reader, have a care, Tread lightly, left you roufe a fleeping Bear. His actions, fayings, mirth and melancholy, SPRING. IS the Linnet's early note Marks the glad return of spring 'Tis the odours mild that float On every Zephyr's balmy wing; 'Tis the morning's filvery dew; 'Tis the violet's azure bell; 'Tis the fnow-drop's virgin hue; The yellow primrofe fragrant fmell; 'Tis the harmless lambkin's bleat; 'Tis the bud on every fpray; 'Tis the vallies which repeat The ploughman's note fo blithe and gay: Co OME Fancy, Nature's pleafing child, Advance with the advancing year; Come Zephyr's foft, Favonian, mild, And on your wings pure fragrance bear. For, lo! like fome gay fparkling bride, Prepar'd for Hymen's gentleft band, Young Spring appears in blooming pride, Difpenfing pleasures round the land. From fouthern climes, unknown to fame, Or vet'ran Cooke's exploring eye, Midit father Neptune's mild domain, Where ne'er was known the wintry sky, She comes! Around her airy Pow'rs, Young Loves and Graces fportive play, And vernal funs and vernal show'rs, With all the fweets of heav'nly May. bcam, I'd wish to feek the fhelt'ring bow'r, Enjoying all the feafon yields, Thy fav'rite rock's gay fyivan pride, Beneath, the Eden's peaceful tide. From this exalted feat the Muse Enjoys a fair enchanting fcene, Walks, ftatues, buildings, rural views, And matchlefs fhades of pureft green. Delightful land! Here Nature plays Atwill'midit rocks, and woods, and dells; Here beauty ev'ry charm difplays, And ev'ry guardian Genius dwells. Here bleft in all my heart holds dear, With claiping arms I'd wish to prove Thofe mutual joys that flow fincere; For Spring's thy feafon, pow'rtul Love. Carlile. PHILOMUSUS. THEATRICAL JOURNAL. APRIL 24, The Bird in a Cage, a Comedy, by James Shirley, originally published in 1633, was revived at Covent-Garden for the benefit of Mr. Quick. This drama poffeffes many of the beauties, and most of the defects, of our ancient theatrical performances. It is incorrect, extravagant, and improbable ; but, at the fame time, it is in many parts poetical, fhrewd, various, and enlivening. The characters were in general well performed; and Mrs. Wells, who performed Eugenia, the principal female character, fpoke the following Epilogue, written by Capt. Topham. WELL, gentle dames, though barr'd and I am, as women will be, free at last: To bind in chains the free-born female fpirit! Need Acts of Parliament defend our coaft? While woman, fafe on fhore, defends the Herfelf one general, vaft fortification. rears For gay recruits, and Flattery's volunteers. Herself, the mistress of the works, shall stand, Arm'd at all points each Gallic heart to fmother, One end in oppofition to the other- In aid of this fhall come a corps of beaux, Loft 'twixt two cannon curls each puggish nofe; A gentle band they move-above their fears If fuch the fate our beaux and belles can wield, In fubtle guife, and without beat of drum, Caps a la Reine, and every fool's cap there; Say, grave and reverend Signors, will you then, Commit to ladies what belongs to men? [The lines included in the "inverted commas" were omitted in the (peaking.] Afterwards was revived, if fuch a mutilation deferves the name of a revival, "The |