SAMUEL JOHNSON
Should the guardian friend or mother Tell the woes of wilful wabte,
Scorn their counsel, scorn their pother; You can hang or drown at last'
��46 1 On the Death of Mr. Robert Levef, a Practiser in Physic
lONDEMN'D to Hope's delusive mine,
As on we -toil from day to day, By sudden blasts or slow decline Our social comforts drop away.
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��Well tried through many a varying year, See Levet to the grave descend,
Officious, innocent, sincere,
Of every friendless name the friend.
Yet still he fills affection's eye,
Obscurely wise and coarsely kind,
Nor, letter'd Arrogance, deny Thy praise to merit unrefined.
When fainting nature call'd for aid, And hov'ring death prepared the blow,
His vig'rous remedy displayed
The power of art without the show.
In Misery's darkest cavern known, His useful care was ever nigh,
Where hopeless Anguish pour'd his groan, And lonely Want retired to die.
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