SAMUEL JOHNSON
No summons mock'd by chill delay, No petty gain disdain'd by pride;
The modest wants of every day The toil of every day supplied.
His virtues walk'd their narrow round, Nor made a pause, nor left a void;
And sure th' Eternal Master found The single talent well employ'd.
The busy day, the peaceful night,
Unfclt, uncounted, glided by, His frame was firm his powers were bright,
Though now his eightieth year was nigh.
Then with no fiery throbbing pain,
No cold gradations of decay, Death broke at once the vital chain,
And freed his soul the nearest way.
��RICHARD JAGO 462 Absence
WITH leaden foot Time creeps along While Delia is away: With her, nor plaintive was the song, Nor tedious was the day.
Ah, envious Pow'r! reverse my doom;
Now double thy career, Strain ev'ry nerve, stretch cv'ry plume,
And rest them when she 's here!
�� �
