The man I trust, if shy to me, Shall find me as reserv'd as he, No subterfuge or pleading Shall win my confidence again, I will by no means entertain A spy on my proceeding.
These samples-for alas! at last These are but samples, and a taste Of evils yet unmention'd- May prove the task a task indeed, In which 'tis much if we succeed However well-intention'd.
Pursue the search, and you will find
Good sense and knowledge of mankind
To be at least expedient,
And, after summing all the rest, Religion ruling in the breast
A principal ingredient,
The noblest Friendship ever shown The Saviour's history makes known,
Though some have turn'd and turn'd it;
And, whether being craz'd or blind, Or seeking with a biass'd mind, Have not, it seems, discern'd it.
O Friendship! if my soul forego Thy dear delights while here below; To mortify and grieve me,
May I myself at last appear Unworthy, base, and insincere,
may my friend deceive me!
WHICH THE OWNER OF HIM SOLD AT THE
Go-Thou art all unfit to share
The pleasures of this place With such as it's old tenants are,
Creatures of gentler race.
The squirrel here his hoard provides, Aware of wintry storms,
And wood-peckers explore the sides
Of rugged oaks for worms.
The sheep here smooths the knotted thorn With frictions of her fleece;
And here I wander eve and morn, Like her, a friend to peace.
Ah!-I could pity thee exil'd From this secure retreat-
I would not lose it to be styl'd The happiest of the great.
But thou canst taste no calm delight; Thy pleasure is to show Thy magnanimity in fight,
Thy prowess-therefore go
I care not whether east or north, So I no more may find thee; The angry muse thus sings thee forth, And claps the gate behind thee.
Written in commemoration of his Majesty's happy recovery.
I RANSACK'D, for a theme of song, Much ancient chronicle, and long; I read of bright embattled fields, Of trophied helmets, spears, and shields, Of chiefs, whose single arm could boast Prowess to dissipate a host; Through tomes of fable and of dream I sought an eligible theme,
But none I found, or found them shar'd Already by some happier bard.
To modern times, with Truth to guide My busy search, I next applied; Here cities won, and fleets dispers'd, Urg'd loud a claim to be rehears'd, Deeds of unperishing renown,
Our father's triumphs and our own.
Thus, as the bee, from bank to bow'r,
Assiduous sips at ev'ry flow'r,
But rests on none, till that be found, Where most nectareous sweets abound, So I, from theme to theme display'd In many a page historic stray'd, Siege after siege, fight after fight, Contemplating with small delight, (For feats of sanguinary hue Not always glitter in my view;) Till, settling on the current year,
I found the far-sought treasure near. A theme for poetry divine,
A theme t'ennoble even mine, In memorable eighty nine.
The spring of eighty nine shall be An æra cherish'd long by me, Which joyful I will oft record, And thankful at my frugal board; For then the clouds of eighty eight,
That threaten'd England's trembling state With loss of what she least could spare,
Her sov'reign's tutelary care,
One breath of Heav'n, that cried-Restore! Chas'd, never to assemble more:
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