24 MEMOIRS OP 



If chance ye enter thefe fequefter'd groves, 



And day's bright funfhine, for a while, forego, 



O leave to Folly's cheek, the laughs and loves, 

 And give one hour to philofophic woe ! 



Here, while no titled duft, no fainted bone, 



No lover, weeping over beauty's bier, 

 No warrior, frowning in hiftoric ftone, 



Extorts your praifes, or requefts your tear, 



Cold Contemplation leans her aching head, 

 And as on hurran woe her broad eye turns, 



Waves her meek hand, and lighs for fcience dead, 

 For fcience, virtue, and for Small me mourns ! 



Epitaph on Dr. Small of Birmingham, 

 by Mr. Day. 



Beyond the rage of Time, or Fortune's power, 

 .Remain, cold ftone ! remain, and mark the hour 

 When all the nobleft gifts that Heaven e'er gave 

 Were deftined to a dark, untimely grave. 

 O taught on reafon's boldeft wing to rife, 

 And catch each glimmer of the opening ikies ! 

 O gentle bofom ! O unfpotted mind ! 

 O friend to truth, to virtue, and mankind, 

 Thy lov'd remains we truft to this pale (hrine, 

 Secure to meet no fecond lofs like thine ! 



In 



