Of fmiling victory that moment won,

And Chatham heart-fick of his country's fhame! They made us many foldiers. Chatham, ftill Confulting England's happiness at home,

Secur'd it by an unforgiving frown,

If any wrong'd her. Wolfe, where'er he fought, Put fo much of his heart into his act,

That his example had a magnet's force,

And all were fwift to follow whom all lov'd.

Thofe funs are fet. Oh, rife fome other fuch!

Or all that we have left is empty talk

Of old achievements, and defpair of new.

Now hoift the fail, and let the ftreamers float Upon the wanton breezes. Strew the deck With lavender, and fprinkle liquid fweets, That no rude favour maritime invade The nofe of nice nobility! Breathe foft, Ye clarionets; and fofter ftill, ye flutes; That winds and waters, lull'd by magic founds,

May bear us smoothly to the Gallic fhore!

True, we have loft an empire-let it pass.
True; we may thank the perfidy of France,
That pick'd the jewel out of England's crown,
With all the cunning of an envious fhrew.
And let that pass-'twas but a trick of state!
A brave man knows no malice, but at once
Forgets in peace the injuries of war,

And gives his direst foe a friend's embrace.
And, fham'd as we have been, to th' very beard
Brav'd and defied, and in our own fea prov'd
Too weak for thofe decifive blows that once
Ensured us mast'ry there, we yet retain
Some small pre-eminence; we justly boast
At least fuperior jockeyfhip, and claim
The honours of the turf as all our own!
Go, then, well worthy of the praise ye seek,
And show the shame ye might conceal at home
In foreign eyes!-be grooms, and win the plate
Where once your nobler fathers won a crown!---

'Tis gen'rous to communicate. your skill

To thofe that need it. Folly is foon learn'd:
And, under fuch preceptors, who can fail!

There is a pleasure in poetic pains
Which only poets know. The shifts and turns,
Th' expedients and inventions, multiform,
To which the mind reforts, in chafe of terms
Though apt, yet coy, and difficult to win-
T'arreft the fleeting images that fill

The mirror of the mind, and hold them faft,
And force them fit till he has pencil'd off
A faithful likenefs of the forms he views;

Then to dispose his copies with fuch art,

That each may find its moft propitious light,
And shine by fituation, hardly lefs

Than by the labour and the fkill it coft;
Are occupations of the poet's mind

So pleafing, and that fteal away the thought
With fuch addrefs from themes of fad import,

That, loft in his own mufings, happy man!

He feels th' anxieties of life, denied

Their wonted entertainment, all retire.

Such joys has he that fings. But ah! not such,
Or feldom fuch, the hearers of his fong,
Faftidious, or else listless, or perhaps
Aware of nothing arduous in a task
They never undertook, they little note

His dangers or escapes, and haply find

There least amusement where he found the most.

But is amusement all? ftudious of fong,

And

yet ambitious not to fing in vain,

I would not trifle merely, though the world
Be loudest in their praise who do no more.
Yet what can fatire, whether grave or gay?
It may correct a foible, may chastise
The freaks of fashion, regulate the dress,
Retrench a fword-blade, or difplace a patch;
But where are its fublimer trophies found?

What vice has it fubdu'd? whofe heart reclaim'd

By rigour, or whom laugh'd into reform?

Alas! Leviathan is not fo tam'd:

Laugh'd at, he laughs again; and, stricken hard,
Turns to the ftroke his adamantine fcales,

That fear no difcipline of human hands.

The pulpit, therefore (and I name it fill'd With folemn awe, that bids me well beware With what intent I touch that holy thing)— The pulpit (when the fatʼrift has at laft, Strutting and vap'ring in an empty school, Spent all his force and made no profelyte)I fay the pulpit (in the fober use

Of its legitimate, peculiar pow'rs)

Must stand acknowledg'd, while the world fhall stand,

The most important and effectual guard,

Support, and ornament, of virtue's caufe.

There ftands the meffenger of truth: there ftands

The legate of the fkies!-His theme divine,

His office facred, his credentials clear.