Again, of a neighbouring matron, who died leaving Eulogius money—
'This matron, whitened with good works and age,
Approached the Sabbath of her pilgrimage;
Her spirit to himself the Almighty drew,
Breathed on the alembic, and exhaled the dew.'
And once more—
'Who but Eulogius now exults for joy?
New thoughts, new hopes, new views his mind employ;
Pride pushed forth buds at every branching shoot,
And virtue shrank almost beneath the root.
High raised on fortune's hill, new Alps he spies,
O'ershoots the valley which beneath him lies,
Forgets the depths between, and travels with his eyes.'
EDWARD LOVIBOND.
Hampton in Middlesex was the birthplace of our next poet, Edward Lovibond. He was a gentleman of fortune, who chiefly employed his time in rural occupations. He became a director of the East India Company. He helped his friend Moore in conducting the periodical called The World, to which he contributed several papers, including the very pleasing poem entitled 'The Tears of Old May-Day.' He died in 1775.
THE TEARS OF OLD MAY-DAY.
WRITTEN ON THE REFORMATION OF THE CALENDAR IN 1754.
1 Led by the jocund train of vernal hours
And vernal airs, uprose the gentle May;
Blushing she rose, and blushing rose the flowers
That sprung spontaneous in her genial ray.
2 Her locks with heaven's ambrosial dews were bright,
And amorous zephyrs fluttered on her breast:
With every shifting gleam of morning light,
The colours shifted of her rainbow vest.