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I stand here to date the birth
Of these hardy sons of earth.

Which shall longest brave the sky,
Storm and frost ?-these oaks or I ?
Pass an age or two away,
I must moulder, and decay,
But the years that crumble me
Shall invigorate the tree,
Spread the branch, dilate its size,
Lift its summit to the skies,

Cherish honour, virtue, truth !
So shalt thou prolong thy youth:
Wanting these, however fast
Man be fixt, and form’d to last,
He is lifeless even now,
Stone at heart, and cannot grow.

INSCRIPTION For a Hermitage in the Author's Garden.

THIS cabin, Mary, in my sight appears, Built as it has been in our waning years, A rest afforded to our weary feet, Preliminary to the last retreat.

STANZAS

On the late indecent Liberties taken with the Re

mains of the great Milton. Anno 1790.

ME too, perchance, in future days,

The sculptur'd stone shall show,
With Paphian Myrtle, or with Bays

Parnassian, on my brow.
But I, or ere that season come,

Escap'd from every care,
Shall reach my refuge in the tomb,

And sleep securely there. *

So sang in Roman tone and style,

The youthful Bard, ere long
Ordain'd to grace his native isle

With her sublimest song,

Who then but must conceive disdainy

Hearing the deed unblest
Of wretches who have dar'd profane

His dread sepulchral resto

Ill fare the hands that heav'd the stones

Where Milton's ashes lay,
That trembled not to grasp his bones,
And steal his dust away.

* Forsitan el nostros ducal de marmore vultus Nectens ant Paphia morti azd Parnasside lauri Fronde comas-- At ego secura pace quidicam.

MILTON

Oh ill-requited Bard! neglect

Thy living worth repaid,
And blind idolatrous respect

As much affronts thee dead.

A TALE

Founded on a Fact, which happened in January,

1779. WHERE Humber pour; his rich commercial stream

There dwelt a wretch who breath'd but to blaspheme. In subterraneous caves his life he led, Black as the mine in which he wrought for bread. When on a day, emerging from the deep, A Sabbath-day! (such Sabbaths thousands keep !) The wages of his weekly toil he bore. To buy a cock-whose blood might win him more ; As if the noblest of the feather’d kind Were but for battle and for death design'di. As if the consecrated hours were meant For sport, to minds on cruelty intent ; It chanc'd (such chances Providence obey !) He met a fellow labourer on the way, Whose heart the same desires had once inflam'd; But now the savage temper was reclaim'd, Persuasion on his lips had taken place ; For all plead well who plead the cause of Grace ! His iron heart with scripture he assail'd, Woo'd him to hear a sermon, and prevailid ;

His faithful bow the mighty preacher drew,
Swift, as the lightning-glimpse the arrow flew ,
He wept; he trembled ; cast his eyes around,
To find a worse than he ; but none he found.
He felt his sins, and wonder'd he should feel ;
Grace made the wound, and Grace alone could heal !

Now farewel oaths and blasphemies, and lies ! He quits the sinner's, for the martyr's prize. That holy day was wash'd with many a tear, Gilded with hope, yet shaded too by fear. The next, his swarthy brethren of the mine Learn’d by his alter'd speech the change divine ! Laugh'd when they should have wept, and swore the

day Was nigh, when he would swear as fast as they. « No"-said the Penitent :-"Such words shall share This breath no more ; devoted now to prayer. Oh! if Thou seest, (thine eye the future sees!) That I shall yet again blaspheme like these ; Now strike me to the ground, on which I kneel, Ere yet this heart relapses into steel; Now take me to that Heaven, I once defied, Thy presence, thy embrace !"-He spoke and died !

A TALE.

IN Scotland's realm, where trees are few,

Nor even shrubs abound;
But where, however bleak the view,

Some better things are found :

For husband there, and wife may boast

Their union undefil'd!
And false ones are as rare almost,

As hedge-rows in the wild :

In Scotland's realm, forlorn and barn,

This history chanc'd of late This history of a wedded pair,

A Chaffinch and his mate.

The spring drew near, each felt a breast

With genial instinct fillid; They pair'd, and only wish'd a nest,

But found not where to build.

The heaths uncover'd, and the moors,

Except with snow and sleet ; Sea-beaten rocks and naked shores

Could yield them no retreat. Long time a breeding place they sought,

Till both grew vex'd and tir'd ; At length a ship arriving, brought

The good so long desir'd.
A ship!--Could such a restless thing,

Afford them place to rest ?
Or was the merchant charg'd to bring

The homeless birds a nest ?

Hush !-Silent hearers profit most !

This racer of the sea Prov'd kinder to them than the coast s

It serv'd them with a tree.

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