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EPITAPH ON A HARE.

HERE lies, whom hound did ne'er pursue, Nor swifter greyhound follow,

Whose foot ne'er tainted morning dew,

Nor ear heard huntsman's halloo;

Old Tiney, surliest of his kind,

Who, nursed with tender care,
And to domestic bounds confined,
Was still a wild jack hare.
Though duly from my hand he took
His pittance every night,
He did it with a jealous look,

And, when he could, would bite.
His diet was of wheaten bread,

And milk, and oats, and straw;
Thistles, or lettuces instead,

With sand to scour his maw.
On twigs of hawthorn he regaled,
On pippins' russet peel,
And, when his juicy salads fail'd,
Sliced carrot pleased him well.
A Turkey carpet was his lawn,

Whereon he loved to bound,
To skip and gambol like a fawn,
And swing his rump around.
His frisking was at evening hours,
For then he lost his fear,

But most before approaching showers,
Or when a storm drew near.

Eight years and five round rolling moons He thus saw steal away,

Dozing out all his idle noons,

And every night at play.

I kept him for his humour's sake,

For he would oft beguile

My heart of thoughts that made it ache,
And force me to a smile.

But now beneath his walnut shade
He finds his long last home,
And waits, in snug concealment laid,
Till gentler Puss shall come.
He, still more aged, feels the shocks
From which no care can save,
And, partner once of Tiney's box,
Must soon partake his grave.

EPITAPHIUM ALTERUM.

Hic etiam jacet, Qui totum novennium vixit, Puss. Siste paulisper, Qui præteriturus es, Et tecum sic reputa― Hunc neque canis venaticus, Nec plumbum missile, Nec laqueus, Nec imbres nimii,

Confecêre:

Tamen mortuus estEt moriar ego.

THE FOLLOWING

ACCOUNT OF THE TREATMENT OF HIS HARES, WAS INSERTED BY COWPER IN THE GENTLEMAN'S MAGAZINE.

In the year 1774, being much indisposed both | in mind and body, incapable of diverting myself either with company or books, and yet in a condition that made some diversion necessary, I was glad of anything that would engage my attention, without fatiguing it. The children of a neighbour of mine had a leveret given them for a plaything; it was at that time about three months old. Understanding better how to tease the poor creature than to feed it, and soon becoming weary of their charge, they readily consented that their father, who saw it pining and growing leaner every day, should offer it to my acceptance. I was willing enough to take the prisoner under my protection, perceiving that, in the management of such an animal, and in the attempt to tame it, I should find just that sort of employment which my case required. It was soon known among my neighbours that I was pleased with the present, and the consequence was, that in a short time I had as many leverets offered to me as would have stocked a paddock. I undertook the care of three, which it is necessary that I should here distinguish by the names I gave them-Puss, Tiney, and Bess.

Notwithstanding the two feminine appellatives, I must inform you, that they were all males. Immediately commencing carpenter, I built them houses to sleep in; each had a separate apartment, so contrived that their ordure would pass through the bottom of it; an earthen pan placed under each received whatsoever fell, which being duly emptied and washed, they were thus kept perfectly sweet and clean. In the daytime they had the range of a hall, and at night retired each to his own bed, never intruding into that of another.

Puss grew presently familiar, would leap into my lap, raise himself upon his hinder feet, and bite the hair from my temples. He would suffer me to take him up, and to carry him about in my arms, and has more than once fallen fast asleep upon my knee. He was ill three days, during which time I nursed him, kept him apart from his fellows, that they might not molest him, (for, like many other wild animals, they persecute one of their own species that is sick) and by constant care, and trying him with a variety of herbs, restored him to perfect health. No creature could be more grateful than my patient after his

recovery; a sentiment which he most significantly expressed by licking my hand, first the back of it, then the palm, then every finger separately, then between all the fingers, as if anxious to leave no part of it unsaluted; a ceremony which he never performed but once again upon a similar occasion. Finding him extremely tractable, I made it my custom to carry him always after breakfast into the garden, where he hid himself generally under the leaves of a cucumber vine, sleeping or chewing the cud till evening; in the leaves also of that vine he found a favourite repast. I had not long habituated him to this taste of liberty, before he began to be impatient for the return of the time when he might enjoy it. He would invite me to the garden by drumming upon my knee, and by a look of such expression, as it was not possible to misinterpret. If this rhetoric did not immediately succeed, he would take the skirt of my coat between his teeth, and pull it with all his force. Thus Puss might be said to be perfectly tamed, the shyness of his nature was done away; and on the whole it was visible by many symptoms, which I have not room to enumerate, that he was happier in human society than when shut up with his natural companions.

Not so Tiney; upon him the kindest treatment had not the least effect. He too was sick, and in his sickness had an equal share of my attention; but if after his recovery I took the liberty to stroke him, he would grunt, strike with his fore feet, spring forward, and bite. He was however very entertaining in his way; even his surliness was matter of mirth, and in his play he preserved such an air of gravity, and performed his feats with such a solemnity of manner, that in him too I had an agreeable companion.

Bess, who died soon after he was full grown, and whose death was occasioned by his being turned into his box, which had been washed, while it was yet damp, was a hare of great humour and drollery. Puss was tamed by gentle usage; Tiney was not to be tamed at all; and Bess had a courage and confidence that made him tame from the beginning. I always admitted them into the parlour after supper, when the carpet affording their feet a firm hold, they would frisk, and bound, and play a thousand gambols, in which Bess, being remarkably strong and fearless, was always superior to the rest, and proved himself the Vestris of the party. One evening the cat, being in the room, had the hardiness to pat Bess upon the cheek, an indignity which he resented by drumming upon her back with such violence that the cat was happy to escape from under his paws, and hide herself.

I describe these animals as having each a character of his own. Such they were in fact, and their countenances were so expressive of that character, that, when I looked only on the face of either, I immediately knew which it was. It is said that a shepherd, however numerous his flock, soon becomes so familiar with their features, that he can, by that indication only, distinguish each from all the rest; and yet, to a common observer, the difference is hardly perceptible. I doubt not that the same discrimination in the cast of countenances would be discoverable in hares, and am persuaded that among a thousand of them no two could be found exactly similar; a circumstance

little suspected by those who have not had opportunity to observe it. These creatures have a singular sagacity in discovering the minutest alteration that is made in the place to which they are accustomed, and instantly apply their nose to the examination of a new object. A small hole being burnt in the carpet, it was mended with a patch, and that patch in a moment underwent the strictest scrutiny. They seem too to be very much directed by the smell in the choice of their favourites: to some persons, though they saw them daily, they could never be reconciled, and would even scream when they attempted to touch them; but a miller coming in engaged their affections at once; his powdered coat had charms that were irresistible. It is no wonder that my intimate acquaintance with these specimens of the kind has taught me to hold the sportsman's amusement in abhorrence; he little knows what amiable creatures he persecutes, of what gratitude they are capable, how cheerful they are in their spirits, what enjoyment they have of life, and that, impressed as they seem with a peculiar dread of man, it is only because man gives them peculiar cause for it.

That I may not be tedious, I will just give a short summary of those articles of diet that suit them best.

I take it to be a general opinion that they graze, but it is an erroneous one, at least grass is not their staple: they seem rather to use it medicinally, soon quitting it for leaves of almost any kind. Sowthistle, dandelion, and lettuce, are their favourite vegetables, especially the last. I discovered by accident that fine white sand is in great estimation with them; I suppose as a digestive. It happened, that I was cleaning a birdcage when the hares were with me; I placed a pot filled with such sand upon the floor, which being at once directed to by a strong instinct, they devoured voraciously; since that time I have generally taken care to see them well supplied with it. They account green corn a delicacy, both blade and stalk, but the ear they seldom eat: straw of any kind, especially wheat-straw, is another of their dainties; they will feed greedily upon oats, but if furnished with clean straw never want them; it serves them also for a bed, and, if shaken up daily, will be kept sweet and dry for a considerable time. They do not indeed require aromatie herbs, but will eat a small quantity of them with great relish, and are particularly fond of the plant called musk; they seem to resemble sheep in this, that, if their pasture be too succulent, they are very subject to the rot; to prevent which, I always made bread their principal nourishment, and, filling a pan with it cut into small squares, placed it every evening in their chambers, for they feed only at evening and in the night; during the winter, when vegetables were not to be got, I mingled this mess of bread with shreds of carrot, adding to it the rind of apples cut extremely thin; for, though they are fond of the paring, the apple itself disgusts them. These however not being a sufficient substitute for the juice of summer herbs, they must at this time be supplied with water; but so placed, that they cannot overset it into their beds. I must not omit, that occasionally they are much pleased with twigs of hawthorn, and of the common brier, eating even the very wood when it is of considerable thickness.

Bess, I have said, died young; Tiney lived to be nine years old, and died at last, I have reason to think, of some hurt in his loins by a fall; Puss is still living, and has just completed his tenth year, discovering no signs of decay, nor even of age, except that he has grown more discreet and less frolicsome than he was. I cannot conclude without observing, that I have lately introduced a dog to his acquaintance, a spaniel that had never seen a hare to a hare that had never seen a spaniel. I did it with great caution, but there was no real need of it. Puss discovered no token of fear, nor Marquis the least symptom of hostility. There is therefore, it should seem, no natural antipathy between dog and hare, but the pursuit of the one occasions the flight of the other, and the dog pursues because he is trained to it;

they eat bread at the same time out of the same hand, and are in all respects sociable and friendly. I should not do complete justice to my subject, did I not add, that they have no ill scent belonging to them, that they are indefatigably nice in keeping themselves clean, for which purpose nature has furnished them with a brush under each foot; and that they are never infested by any vermin.

May 28, 1784.

Memorandum found among Mr. Cowper's Papers. Tuesday, March 9, 1786.

THIS day died poor Puss, aged eleven years eleven months. He died between twelve and one at noon, of mere old age, and apparently without pain.

OLNEY HYMNS.

L. WALKING WITH GOD. Gen. v. 24.

OH! for a closer walk with God ;
A calm and heavenly frame;
A light to shine upon the road
That leads me to the Lamb!
Where is the blessedness I knew
When first I saw the Lord?
Where is the soul-refreshing view
Of Jesus and his word?

What peaceful hours I once enjoy'd!
How sweet their memory still!
But they have left an aching void,
The world can never fill.

Return, O holy Dove, return,

Sweet messenger of rest!

I hate the sins that made thee mourn,
And drove thee from my breast.
The dearest idol I have known,
Whate'er that idol be,

Help me to tear it from thy throne,
And worship only Thee.

So shall my walk be close with God,
Calm and serene my frame;
So purer light shall mark the road
That leads me to the Lamb.

II. JEHOVAH-JIREH. THE LORD WILL PROVIDE.

Gen. xxii. 14.

THE saints should never be dismay'd,

Nor sink in hopeless fear;

For when they least expect his aid,

The Saviour will appear.

This Abraham found: he raised the knife;
God saw, and said, " Forbear!
Yon ram shall yield his meaner life;
Behold the victim there."

Once David seem'd Saul's certain prey;
But hark! the foe 's at hand1;
Saul turns his arms another way,
To save the invaded land.

1 1 Sam. xxiii. 27.

When Jonah sunk beneath the wave,

He thought to rise no more2; But God prepared a fish to save,

And bear him to the shore.

Blest proofs of power and race divine,
That meet us in his word!

May every deep-felt care of mine
Be trusted with the Lord.

Wait for his seasonable aid,

And though it tarry, wait:
The promise may be long delay'd,
But cannot come too late.

III. JEHOVAH-ROPHI. I AM THE LORD THAT HEALETH THEE. Exod. xv. 26.

HEAL us, Emmanuel! here we are,
Waiting to feel thy touch:
Deep-wounded souls to thee repair,
And, Saviour, we are such.
Our faith is feeble, we confess,

We faintly trust thy word;
But wilt thou pity us the less?

Be that far from thee, Lord! Remember him who once applied, With trembling, for relief; "Lord, I believe," with tears he cried 3, "Oh, help my unbelief!"

She too, who touch'd thee in the press,
And healing virtue stole,

Was answer'd, "Daughter, go in peace 4,
Thy faith hath made thee whole."

Conceal'd amid the gathering throng,
She would have shunn'd thy view;
And if her faith was firm and strong,
Had strong misgivings too.

Like her, with hopes and fears we come,
To touch thee, if we may;
Oh! send us not despairing home!
Send none unheal'd away!

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IV. JEHOVAH-NISSI, THE LORD MY BANNER.

Exod. xvii. 15.

By whom was David taught

To aim the deadly blow,
When he Goliath fought,

And laid the Gittite low?

Nor sword nor spear the stripling took, But chose a pebble from the brook.

"Twas Israel's God and king

Who sent him to the fight;
Who gave him strength to sling,
And skill to aim aright.

Ye feeble saints, your strength endures,
Because young David's God is yours.

Who order'd Gideon forth,

To storm the invaders' camp,

With arms of little worth,

A pitcher and a lamp?

The trumpets made his coming known, And all the host was overthrown.

Oh! I have seen the day,

When with a single word,
God helping me to say,

"My trust is in the Lord,"

My soul hath quell'd a thousand foes,
Fearless of all that could oppose.

But unbelief, self-will,

Self-righteousness, and pride,

How often do they steal

My weapon from my side!

Yet David's Lord, and Gideon's friend, Will help his servant to the end.

VI. WISDOM. Prov. viii. 22—31.

ERE God had built the mountains,
Or raised the fruitful hills;
Before he fill'd the fountains
That feed the running rills;
In me, from everlasting,
The wonderful I AM,
Found pleasures never wasting,
And WISDOM is my name.

When, like a tent to dwell in,
He spread the skies abroad,
And swathed about the swelling
Of Ocean's mighty flood;

He wrought by weight and measure,
And I was with him then;
Myself the Father's pleasure,
And mine, the sons of men.

Thus Wisdom's words discover
Thy glory and thy grace,
Thou everlasting lover
Of our unworthy race!
Thy gracious eye survey'd us
Ere stars were seen above;
In wisdom thou hast made us,
And died for us in love.

And couldst thou be delighted
With creatures such as we,
Who, when we saw thee, slighted,
And nail'd thee to a tree?
Unfathomable wonder,

And mystery divine!

The voice that speaks in thunder,
Says, "Sinner, I am thine !"

V. JEHOVAH-SHALOM. THE LORD SEND PEACE.

Judges, vi. 24.

JESUS! whose blood so freely stream'd To satisfy the law's demand;

By thee from guilt and wrath redeem'd, Before the Father's face I stand.

To reconcile offending man,

Make Justice drop her angry rod; What creature could have form'd the plan, Or who fulfil it but a God?

No drop remains of all the curse,

For wretches who deserved the whole ; No arrows dipt in wrath to pierce

The guilty, but returning soul. Peace by such means so dearly bought, What rebel could have hoped to see? Peace, by his injured Sovereign wrought, His Sovereign fasten'd to a tree. Now, Lord, thy feeble worm prepare!

For strife with earth and hell begins;
Confirm and gird me for the war;
They hate the soul that hates his sins.
Let them in horrid league agree!

They may assault, they may distress;
But cannot quench thy love to me,
Nor rob me of the Lord my peace.

I Judges, vii. 9, and 20.

VII. VANITY OF THE WORLD.

GOD gives his mercies to be spent ;
Your hoard will do your soul no good;
Gold is a blessing only lent,
Repaid by giving others food.

The world's esteem is but a bribe,

To buy their peace you sell your own; The slave of a vainglorious tribe,

Who hate you while they make you known

The joy that vain amusements give,

Oh! sad conclusion that it brings! The honey of a crowded hive,

Defended by a thousand stings.

"Tis thus the world rewards the fools

That live upon her treacherous smiles: She leads them blindfold by her rules,

And ruins all whom she beguiles.

God knows the thousands who go down
From pleasure into endless woe :
And with a long despairing groan
Blaspheme their Maker as they go.
O fearful thought! be timely wise ;
Delight but in a Saviour's charms,
And God shall take you to the skies.
Embraced in everlasting arms.

VIII. O LORD, I WILL PRAISE THEE. Isaiah, xii. 1.

I WILL praise thee every day
Now thine anger's turn'd away;
Comfortable thoughts arise
From the bleeding sacrifice.

Here, in the fair gospel-field,
Wells of free salvation yield
Streams of life, a plenteous store,
And my soul shall thirst no more.
Jesus is become at length
My salvation and my strength;
And his praises shall prolong,
While I live, my pleasant song.
Praise ye, then, his glorious name,
Publish his exalted fame!

Still his worth your praise exceeds ;
Excellent are all his deeds.
Raise again the joyful sound,
Let the nations roll it round!
Zion, shout! for this is he;

God the Saviour dwells in thee!

"There, like streams that feed the garden, Pleasures without end shall flow;

For the Lord, your faith rewarding,
All his bounty shall bestow;
Still in undisturb'd possession
Peace and righteousness shall reign;
Never shall you feel oppression,
Hear the voice of war again.

"Ye no more your suns descending,
Waning moons no more shall see ;
But, your griefs for ever ending,
Find eternal noon in me:

God shall rise, and shining o'er ye,
Change to day the gloom of night;
He, the Lord, shall be your glory,
God your everlasting light."

XI. JEHOVAH OUR RIGHTEOUSNESS. Jer. xxiii. 6.

IX. THE CONTRITE HEART. Isaiah, Ivii. 15.

THE Lord will happiness divine

On contrite hearts bestow;
Then tell me, gracious God, is mine
A contrite heart, or no?

I hear, but seem to hear in vain,
Insensible as steel;

If aught is felt, 'tis only pain,
To find I cannot feel.

I sometimes think myself inclined
To love thee, if I could;
But often feel another mind,
Averse to all that's good.

My best desires are faint and few,
I fain would strive for more;

But when I cry, "My strength renew!"
Seem weaker than before.

Thy saints are comforted, I know,
And love thy house of prayer;
I therefore go where others go,
But find no comfort there.

O make this heart rejoice or ache;
Decide this doubt for me;
And if it be not broken, break,—
And heal it if it be.

X. THE FUTURE PEACE AND GLORY OF THE CHURCH. Isaiah, ix. 15-20.

HEAR what God the Lord hath spoken:
"O my people, faint and few,
Comfortless, afflicted, broken,
Fair abodes I build for you.
Thorns of heart-felt tribulation
Shall no more perplex your ways:
You shall name your walls, Salvation,
And your gates shall all be Praise.

My God, how perfect are thy ways!
But mine polluted are;

Sin twines itself about my praise,
And slides into my prayer.

When I would speak what thou hast done
To save me from my sin,

I cannot make thy mercies known,
But self-applause creeps in.

Divine desire, that holy flame
Thy grace creates in me;
Alas! impatience is its name,
When it returns to thee.

This heart, a fountain of vile thoughts,
How does it overflow,

While self upon the surface floats,
Still bubbling from below!

Let others in the gaudy dress

Of fancied merit shine;

The Lord shall be my righteousness,
The Lord for ever mine.

XII. EPHRAIM REPENTING. Jer. xxxi. 18-20,

My God, till I received thy stroke,
How like a beast was I!

So unaccustom'd to the yoke,
So backward to comply.

With grief my just reproach I bear;
Shame fills me at the thought,
How frequent my rebellions were,
What wickedness I wrought.

Thy merciful restraint I scorn'd,
And left the pleasant road;
Yet turn me, and I shall be turn'd!
Thou art the Lord my God.

"Is Ephraim banish'd from my thoughts, Or vile in my esteem?

No," saith the Lord, "with all his faults, I still remember him.

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