You say, my Friend, that every day
Your company forsaking,
In quest of news I haste away,
The Morning Post to take in:
...
To brush the cheeks of Ladies fair,
With genuine charms o'erspread,
...
This Cenotaph is sacred
to the Memory
Of those departed Warriors,
of the seventy--ninth regiment,
...
I am a decay'd macaroni,
My lodging's up three pair of stairs;
My cheeks are grown wondrously bony,
And grey, very grey, are my hairs:
...
O! Johnson, learned, venerable shade,
What havock of thy fame hath friendship made,
What childish trophies round thy manly bust,
...
Lo! where beside yon verdant plain
Sweet Avon winds his way,
And smiling laves thy rich demain,
Sir Peter Rivers Gay,
...
Some wept, you say, when Coyghley was no more!
I wept, because he was not hang'd before.
...
--Virtuous youth!
Thank Heav'n, I knew thee not--I ne'er shall feel
The keen regret thy drooping friends sustain;
...
Worn with the raging gout's consuming fires,
The good Northumberland to Bath retires:
There Health awhile her flattering respite brings
...
Not always o'er the meads and hills,
From low'ring clouds, the rain distils,
Nor storms with endless uproar sweep
...