Till death o'ertake me in the chase
Still will my hopes pursue thee;
Then when my tedious hours are past
Be this last blessing given,
Low at thy feet to breathe my last,
And die in sight of heaven.

[Footnote 2: "_Ars celare artem_."]




SOME VERSES TO A FRIEND WHO TWICE VENTURED ON MARRIAGE.

BY THOMAS BROWN.


The Husband's the Pilot, the Wife is the Ocean,
He always in danger, she always in motion;
And he that in Wedlock twice hazards his Carcase
Twice ventures the Drowning, and, Faith, that's a hard case.
Even at our Weapons the Females defeat us,
And Death, only Death, can sign our _Quietus_.
Not to tell you sad stories of Liberty lost,
Our Mirth is all pall'd, and our Measures all crost;
That Pagan Confinement, that damnable Station,
Sutes no other States or Degrees in the Nation.
The _Levite_ it keeps from Parochial Duty,
For who can at once mind Religion and Beauty?
The Rich it alarms with Expences and Trouble,