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LONDON:

PAINTED BY BRADBURY AND EVANS, WHITEFRIARS.

(Late T. Davison.)

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Oh could my mind, unfolded in my page,
Enlighten climes and mould a future age;
There as it glowed, with noblest frenzy fraught,
Dispense the treasures of exalted thought ;
To Virtue wake the pulses of the heart,
And bid the tear of emulation start!
Oh could it still, thro' each succeeding year,
My life, my manners, and my name endear;
And, when the poet sleeps in silent dust,
Still hold communion with the wise and just!--
Yet should this Verse, my leisure's best resource,
When thro’ the world it steals its secret course,
Revive but once a generous

wish supprest,
Chase but a sigh: or charm a care.tɔ rest;
In one good deed a fleeting hour employ,
Or flush one faded cheek with honest joy;
Blest were my lines, tho? Inniteu. heir sphere,
Tho' short their date, as his who traced them here.

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