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LINES UPON VAUXHALL GARDENS,
" When Time, who steals our years away,
“Shall steal our pleasures too ;
" Another race succeed to bliss,
As o'er the past, retentive mem'ry flies,
The soft alcove, with each allurement fraught,
(Now gone, and vanish'd like a rainbow's hue,)
When the spruce Templar of his clients free,
With blushing damsels in the festive bower;
While honest industry, releas’d from toil,
Smild at the folly of each reckless broil;
* The gardens were formerly ornamented with the works of these celebrated artists.
LINES UPON VAUXHALL GARDENS.
And later yet, tho' now from life retird,
Recall the belles, our fathers once admir'd;
When lamps unnumber'd in the midnight air,
Bestow'd fresh lustre on th' assembled fair ;
While Jews and Gentiles, join'd the mirthful train,
Mark, ere too late, the hollow voice of Time ;
“Where vanish’d-say-that dissipated crowd, “ Vain, thoughtless, brave, tho' arrogant and proud ? 6 Where are the Belcours ? where the Rangers now? “Where the gay Cynthias objects of each vow? “Where the Lotharios, and the Townleys gone, 6 Who led the fashion, or who gave the ton ? “No longer courted, and no more carest,
“In the cold tomb, they all forgotten rest.
“Then, hear the Monarch, thro' each clime renown'd,
“ Midst all the splendors that his throne surround;
Prophets, and Sages, may harangue in vain,
Some wizard's spell too oft we all obey, “ That hush'd in grim repose expects his ev’ning prey.”
THE DEATH OF A GENTLEMAN.
“ The days of man are but as grass; for he flourisheth as a flower of the
“ As soon as the wind goeth over it, it is gone; and the place thereof < shall know it no more.”
My early friends have pass'd away,
Tho' not boasting a proud or historical name,
For ages adorning the annals of fame,