Pleased she beheld aloft portrayed
On many a splendid wall

Emblems of health and heavenly aid,
And George the theme of all:

Unlike the enigmatic line,

So difficult to spell,

Which shook Belshazzar at his wine

The night his city fell.

Soon, watery grew her eyes and dim,
But with a joyful tear :

None else, except in prayer for him,
George ever drew from her.

It was a scene in every part
Like those in fable feigned,

And seemed by some magician's art
Created and sustained.

But other magic there, she knew,
Had been exerted none,

To raise such wonders in her view,
Save love of George alone.

That cordial thought her spirits cheered, And through the cumbrous throng, Not else unworthy to be feared, Conveyed her calm along.

So, ancient poets say, serene

The sea-maid rides the waves, And fearless of the billowy scene Her peaceful bosom laves.

With more than astronomic eyes
She viewed the sparkling show;
One Georgian star adorns the skies,
She myriads found below.

Yet let the glories of a night

Like that, once seen, suffice;

Heaven grant us no such future sight,

Such previous woe the price!

ON THE BENEFIT RECEIVED BY HIS MAJESTY FROM SEA-BATHING

IN THE YEAR 1789

O SOVEREIGN of an isle renowned
For undisputed sway

Wherever o'er yon gulf profound

Her navies wing their way;

With juster claim she builds at length

Her empire on the sea,

And well may boast the waves her strength,
Which strength restored to thee.

THE COCK-FIGHTER'S GARLAND

MUSE, hide his name of whom I sing,
Lest his surviving house thou bring
For his sake into scorn;

Nor speak the school from which he drew
The much or little that he knew,

Nor place where he was born.

That such a man once was, may seem
Worthy of record (if the theme
Perchance may credit win),

For proof to man what man may prove,
If grace depart, and demons move
The source of guilt within.

This man (for since the howling wild
Disclaims him, man he must be styled)
Wanted no good below;

Gentle he was, if gentle birth

Could make him such; and he had worth,

If wealth can worth bestow.

In social talk and ready jest
He shone superior at the feast,
And qualities of mind
Illustrious in the eyes of those
Whose gay society he chose

Possessed of every kind.

Methinks I see him powdered red,
With bushy locks his well-dressed head
Winged broad on either side,
The mossy rosebud not so sweet;
His steeds superb, his carriage neat
As luxury could provide.

Cruel as hell, and so was he;

A tyrant entertained

With barbarous sports, whose fell delight Was to encourage mortal fight

'Twixt birds to battle trained.

One feathered champion he possessed,
His darling far beyond the rest,
Which never knew disgrace,

Nor e'er had fought but he made flow
The life-blood of his fiercest foe,
The Cæsar of his race.

It chanced at last, when on a day
He pushed him to the desperate fray,
His courage drooped, he fled.
The master stormed, the prize was lost,
And, instant, frantic at the cost,

He doomed his favourite dead.

He seized him fast, and from the pit
Flew to the kitchen, snatched the spit,
And "Bring me cord!" he cried :
The cord was brought, and, at his word,
To that dire implement, the bird
Alive and struggling tied.

The horrid sequel asks a veil,
And all the terrors of the tale
That can be, shall be, sunk.
Led by the sufferer's screams aright,
His shocked companions view the sight
And him with fury drunk.

All, suppliant, beg a milder fate
For the old warrior at the grate :
He, deaf to pity's call,

Whirled round him rapid as a wheel
His culinary club of steel,

Death menacing on all.

But Vengeance hung not far remote,
For while he stretched his clamorous throat,
And heaven and earth defied,
Big with the curse too closely pent
That struggled vainly for a vent,
He tottered, reeled, and died.

'Tis not for us, with rash surmise,
To point the judgments of the skies;
But judgments plain as this,
That, sent for man's instruction, bring
A written label on their wing,
"Tis hard to read amiss.

LINES AFTER THE MANNER OF HOMER

DESCRIPTIVE OF THE OPENING OF A HAMPER

THE straw-stuffed hamper with his ruthless steel He opened, cutting sheer the inserted cords Which bound the lid and lip secure.

Forth came

The rustling package; first, bright straw of wheat, Or oats, or barley; next a bottle green,

Throat-full, clear spirits the contents, distilled

Drop after drop odorous, by the art

Of the fair mother of his friend-the Rose.

HYMN

FOR THE USE OF THE SUNDAY SCHOOL AT OLNEY

HEAR, Lord, the song of praise and prayer,
In heaven thy dwelling-place,

From infants made the public care
And taught to seek thy face.

Thanks for thy Word, and for thy day;

And grant us, we implore,

Never to waste in sinful play

Thy holy sabbaths more.

Thanks that we hear,-but oh, impart

To each desires sincere,

That we may listen with our heart,
And learn as well as hear!

For if vain thoughts the minds engage
Of older far than we

What hope, that, at our heedless age,
Our minds should e'er be free?

Much hope if thou our spirits take
Under thy gracious sway

Who canst the wisest wiser make,
And babes as wise as they.

Wisdom and bliss thy word bestows,
A sun that ne'er declines,

And be thy mercies showered on those
Who placed us where it shines.

LONGING TO BE WITH CHRIST

To Jesus, the Crown of my Hope,
My soul is in haste to be gone;
Oh bear me, ye cherubim, up,

And waft me away to his throne!

My Saviour whom absent I love,
Whom not having seen I adore;
Whose name is exalted above

All glory, dominion, and power;

Dissolve thou the bond, that detains
My soul from her portion in thee,
Ah! strike off the adamant chains,
And make me eternally free.

When that happy era begins,

When arrayed in thy beauty I shine,
Nor grieve any more, by my sins,
The bosom on which I recline;

Oh then shall the veil be removed,

And round me thy brightness be poured, I shall meet Him whom absent I loved, Shall see him whom unseen I adored.

And then, never more shall the fears,
The trials, temptations, and woes,
Which darken this valley of tears,
Intrude on my blissful repose.