Fierce Winter ftarts! his fcowling eye
Bloats the fair mantle of the breathing Spring,
And lowers along the ruffled fky.

To the deep vault the yelling harpies run,"
Its yawning mouth receives th' infernal crew.
Dim thro' the black gloom winks the glimmering
fun,

And the pale furnace gleams with brimstone blue,
Hell howls and fiends that join the dire acclaim
Dance on the bubbling tide, and point the livid
flame.

But ah! on Sorrow's cyprefs bough
Can Beauty breathe her genial bloom?
On Death's cold cheek will Paffion glow?
Or Mufic warble from the tomb?

There fleeps the Bard, whofe tuneful tongue
Pour'd the full stream of mazy fong.

Young fpring with lip of ruby, here
Showers from her lap the blushing year;
While along the turf reclin'd,

The loose wing fwimming on the wind,
The Loves with forward gefture bold,
Sprinkle the fod with fpangling gold;

*The Witches in Macbeth.

And

And oft the blue-eyed graces trim,
Dance lightly round on downy limb ;
Oft too, when Eva demure and still
Chequers the green dale's purling rill,
Sweet Fancy pours th' plaintive ftrain,
Or wrapt in foothing dream,

By Avon's ruffled stream,

Hears the low-murmuring gale that dies along the plain.

An Infcription for a Monument of SHAKSPEARE.

Youths and Virgins: O declining eld: O pale misfortune's flaves: O ye who dwell Unknown in humble qiet; ye who wait In courts, or fill the golden feat of kings: O fons of sports and pleafure; O thou wretch That weepeft for jealous love, or the fore wounds Of conscious guilt, or deaths rapacious hand, Which led thee void of hope: O ye who roam In exile; ye who through the embattled field Seek bright renown; or who for nobler palms Contend, the leaders of a public cause; Approach behold this marble. D 2

Know ye not

The

The features? Hath not oft his faithful tongue Told you the fashion of your own estate,

The fecrets of your bofom? Here then, round His monument with reverence while ye stand, Say to each other: "This was SHAKSPEARE'S form;

"Who walk'd in every path of human life, "Felt every paffion; and to all mankind "Doth now, will ever, that experience yield "Which his own genius only could acquire."

AKENSIDE.

In Memory of our famous SHAKSPEĀRĒ.

SACRED Spirit, whilft thy lyre

Echoed o'er the Arcadian plains,

Even Apollo did admire,

Orpheus wonder'd at thy ftrains.

Plautus figh'd, Syphocles wept
Tears of anger, for to hear,
After they fo long had flept,

So bright a genius fhould appear,

Who

Who wrote his lines with a fun-beam,

More durable than time or fate: Others boldly do blafpheme,

Like those who seem to preach, but prate.

Thou wert truly priest elect,

Chofen darling to the Nine, Such a trophy to erect

By thy wit and skill divine;

That were all their other glories (Them excepted) torn away, By thy admirable stories

Their garments ever shall be gay.

Where thy honoured bones do lie, (As Statius once to Maro's urn,) Thither every year will I

Slowly tread, and fadly mourn.

S. SHEPPARD.*

When learning's triumph o'er her barb'rous foes Firft rear'd the stage, immortal SHAKSPEARE rofe; Each change of many-colour'd life he drew, Exhausted worlds, and then imagin'd new :

* Author of a small volume of Epigrams, published 1651.

His

Existence faw him fpurn her bounded reign,
And panting time toil'd after him in vain:
His powerful strokes prefiding truth impreff'd
And unresisted passion storm'd the breast.

By DR. SAMUEL JOHNSON.

The TOMB of SHAKSPEARE,

A

VISION,

By John GILBERT COOPER, Esq.

WHAT time the jocund rofie-bofom'd hours
Led forth the train of PHOEBUS and the SPRING,
And ZEPHYR mild profufely scatter'd flowers
On earth's green mantle from his musky wing.

The MORN unbarr'd th' ambrofial gates of light, Weftward the raven-pinnion'd darknefs flew, The Landscape fmi'd in vernal beauty bright, And to their graves the fullen Ghofts withdrew.

The