SONG.

Published in the Edinburgh Annual Register for 1809. §
Он, say not, my love, with that mortified air,
That your spring-time of pleasure is flown,
Nor bid me to maids that are younger repair,
For those raptures that still are thine own.

Though April his temples may wreathe with the vine,
Its tendrils in infancy curled,

"Tis the ardour of August matures us the wine, Whose life-blood enlivens the world.

Though thy form, that was fashioned as light as a fay's,
Has assumed a proportion more round,
And thy glance, that was bright as a falcon's at gaze,
Looks soberly now on the ground,-

Enough, after absence to meet me again,
Thy steps still with ecstasy move;
Enough, that those dear sober glances retain
For me the kind language of love.

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(The rest was illegible, the fragment being torn across by a racket-stroke.)

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EPITAPH.

DESIGNED FOR A MONUMENT TO BE ERECTED IN LICHFIELD CATHEDRAL, AGREEABLY TO THE BEQUEST OF THE LATE MISS ANNA SEWARD, TO DESIGNATE THE BURIAL-PLACE OF HER FATHER, THE REV. THOMAS SEWARD, A CANON OF THAT CATHEDRAL, IN WHICH SHE IS HERSELF INTERRED.

Published in the Edinburgh Annual Register for 1809.
AMID these aisles, where once his precepts showed
The heavenward pathway which in life he trod,
This simple tablet marks a father's bier,
And those he loved in life, in death are near;
For him, for them, a daughter bade it rise,
Memorial of domestic charities.

Still wouldst thou know why o'er the marble spread,
In female grace, the willow droops her head;

Why on her branches, silent and unstrung,
The minstrel harp is emblematic hung;
What poet's voice is smothered here in dust,
Till waked to join the chorus of the just,-
Lo! one brief line an answer sad supplies,
Honoured, beloved, and wept, here SEWARD lies!
Her worth, her warmth of heart, let friendship say,
Go seek her genius in her living lay.

COX AND WYMAN, PRINTERS, GREAT QUEEN STREET, LONDON.