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Thou wast not heard with drowsy disregard,
Expending late on all that length of plea
Both heart and head; and couldst with music sweet
Of Attic phrase and senatorial tone,
Thy fame diffuse, praised not for utterance meet
LINES, ADDRESSED TO DR. DARWIN,
Author of the “ Botanic Garden."
Not oft so well agree)
Conspire to honour Thee.
They best can judge a poet's worth,
Who oft themselves have known
By labours of their own.
We therefore pleased extol thy song,
Though various yet complete,
And learned as 'tis sweet.
No envy mingles with our praise,
Though, could our hearts repine
They would---they must at thine.
But we, in mutual bondage knit
Of friendship's closest tie,
With an unjaundiced eye; * Alluding to the poem by Mr. Hayley, which accompanied this. And deem the Bard, whoever he be,
And howsoever known,
Unworthy. of his own.
ON MRS. MONTAGUE'S
THE Birds put off their every hue
The Peacock seņds his heavenly dyes,
To the same patroness resort, Secure of favour at her court, Strong Genius, from whose forge of thought Forms rise, to quick perfection wrought, Which, though new-born, with vigour move Like Pallas springing armed from Jove--Imagination scattering round Wild roses over furrowed ground, Which Labour of his frown beguile, And teach Philosophy a smile--
Wit Aashing on Religion's side,
She thus maintains divided sway
Supposed to be written by Alexander Selkirk, during his
solitary Abode on the Island of Juan Fernandez.
My right there is none to dispute;
I am lord of the fowl and the brute.
That sages have seen in thy face?
Than reign in this horrible place.
I am out of humanity's reach,
I must finish my journey alone, Never hear the sweet music of speech,
I start at the sound of my own. The beasts that roam over the plain,
My form with indifference see; They are so unacquainted with man,
Their tameness is shocking to me. Society, friendship, and love,
Divinely bestowed upon man, Oh, had I the wings of a dove,
How soon would I taste you again! My sorrows I then might assuage
In the ways of religion and truth, Might learn from the wisdom of age,
And be cheered by the sallies of youth. Religion! what treasure untold
Resides in that heavenly world! More precious than silver and gold,
Or all that this earth can afford. But the sound of the church-going bell
These valleys and rocks never heard, Never sighed at the sound of a knell,
Or smiled when a sabbath appeared. Ye winds, that have made me your sport,
Convey to this desolate shore Some cordial endearing report
Of a land I shall visit no more, My friends, do they now and then send
A wish or a thought after me? O tell me I yet have a friend,
Though a friend I am never to see. How fleet is a glance of the mind !
Compared with the speed of its flight, The tempest itself lags behind,
And the swift-winged arrows of light. When I think of my own native land,
In a moment I seem to be there; But alas! recollection at hand Soon hurries me back to despair.
But the sea-fowl is gone to her nest
The beast is laid down in his lair; Even here is a season of rest,
And I to my cabin repair. There's mercy in
every place, And mercy, encouraging thought! Gives even affliction a grace,
And reconciles man to his lot.
ON THE PROMOTION OF
EDWARD THURLOW, ESQ.
And in bis sportive days,
And genius sheds his rays.
See! with united wonder, cried
Th' experienced and the sage, Ambition in a boy supplied
With all the skill of age!
Discernment, eloquence, and grace
Proclaim him born to sway The balance in the highest place,
And bear the palm away.
The praise bestowed was just and wise;
He sprang impetuous forth Secure of conquest, where the prize
Attends superior worth.
So the best courser on the plain
Ere yet he starts is known, And does but at the goal obtain,
What all had deemed his own.