1748 EETUKNS TO SWAKKATON 61 



Other productions kindled some delight 

 In his fond soul, but here he doted quite. 

 When others wisely to the grot retreat, 

 And seek a friendly shelter from the heat, 

 Anxious and stooping o'er his treasure, low 

 Poring he kneels, and thinks he sees it grow. 



One day when Phoebus scorch'd the gaping plain, 

 Striving to rise at length he strove in vain, 

 Fix'd to the spot, exchang'd his shape and name, 

 A melon turned and what he view'd became. 



Ovid would tell you how his roughen'd face * 

 Retains the network and the fretty grace ; 

 His skin and bones compose the tougher rind ; 

 His flesh compressed retains its name and kind ; 

 Shrunk are his veins, and empty'd of their blood, 

 Which in the centre forms a plenteous flood. 



The morning past away ; 'twas noon ; 'twas night ; 

 'Twas noon again ; no lord return'd ; their fright 

 The servants own'd ; when one cry'd out * I've found 

 ' The secret now, he's in the melon ground,' 

 And straight ran thither, then he call'd amain, 

 The adjacent hills re-echoed to the strain; 

 But as he look'd about, ripe at his foot 

 A melon lay, just waiting to be cut : 

 He urg'd the fatal knife : — when burst a groan 

 With words like these, 'you've stabbed your master, John.' 



So bleeding twigs the Trojan hero tore, 

 And hollow murmurs shook the Thracian shore." f 



" * By the small-pox." "t Mn. ill. 40." 



During 1748 the Oxford residence continued to 

 the end of April, when he let his rooms "for a 

 quarter of a year," a transaction which he repeated 

 in July for another quarter. Then he quitted resi- 

 dence at the University and went to Hampshire, 

 where he continued his duties as curate of Swarraton, 

 near Alresford. He seems to have chiefly divided his 



