Robert Jephson

“ To worthles strains a partial destiny.
But if his virgin palm was fairly won,
And this next course with equal vigour’s run,
Now join to bind his fresher laurels on.
He fears no jaundic'd rival's envious breath,
The hands which twin'd, shall still preserve the wreath. ”

“ Spoken by Mr. FARREN.
HARD is the task, in modern days to choose,
Congenial subjects for the tragic muse:
The historian's page, the fertile epic store,
Were known, and ransack’d centuries before:
Like luscious gardens, unenclos'd they lay,
To ev'ry saunt'ring bard an easy prey.
The enter’d, and, as taste impell'd, they fed
On Homer some, and some on Hollingshead.
From loftiest numbers, or from humblest prose,
At each conspir’d, the artless structures rose. ”