On could my Mind, unfolded in my page,
Enlighten climes and mould a future age!

There as it glow'd, 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 to rest;
In one good deed a fleeting hour employ,

Or flush one faded cheek with honest joy;
Blest were my lines, tho' limited their sphere,

Tho' short their date, as his who trac'd them here.

A Sketch of the Alps at Day-break..

166

Epitaph on a Robin Red-breast

168

An Italian Song..

169

THE

PLEASURES

OF

MEMORY.

IN TWO PARTS.

Hoc est

Vivere bis, vitâ posse priore frui.

MART.

B