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Ev'n then the hardy mariner shall mourn;

And as he views it rising from the main,

Far from the inhuman shore his

prow

shall turn,

Cursing the murderous isle where Cook was slain.

ELEGY

TO THE MEMORY OF DR. W. HAYES,

PROFESSOR OF MUSIC IN THE UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD.

Set to Music by his Son and Successor, P. Hayes.

SYMPHONY.

THESE Sounds of grief, this solemn air,

To thee I sing, dear, honour'd shade!

Hear, spirit of my father, hear!

To thee these mournful rites are paid.

Here followed an Organ Movement, being a Psalm Tune of the Professor, Dr. Wm. Hayes.

ELEGY TO THE MEMORY OF DR. HAYES. 81

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THE WORLD*.

INTENDED AS AN APOLOGY FOR NOT WRITING.

BY A LADY.

WIDE Habitation of the Sons of Men,

Wherein the seeds of vice and virtue lie

Mix'd, like the undigested Elements

Ere Chaos lost his kingdom; where blind Chance

With Passion holds divided anarchy;

O! who can rightly scan thee, or describe?

This was among the subjects for a Prize Poem, given out by Sir John and Lady Miller at Bath Easton.

Subject ill suited to a Virgin's Muse,

That cannot praise, and is to blame untaught:

Wherefore from this unprofitable theme

She turns, leaving unsung its argument;

Save that with careless hand her lute she strikes

Lightly, nor hoping that the myrtle wreath

Shall crown her unpremeditated lay.

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