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'Twas hard to tell, of streets or squares
Which formed the chief display,
These most resembling clustered stars,
Those the long milky way.

Bright shone the roofs, the domes, the spires,
And rockets flew, self-driven,
To hang their momentary fires,
Amid the vault of heaven.

So fire with water to compare,
The ocean serves, on high
Up-spouted by a whale in air,
To express unweildy joy.

Had all the pageants of the world
In one procession joined,
And all the banners been unfurled
That heralds e'er designed;

For no such sight had England's Queen
Forsaken her retreat,

Where, George recovered made a scene
Sweet always, doubly sweet.

Yet glad she came that night to prove,
A witness undescried,

How much the object of her love

Was loved by all beside.

Darkness the skies had mantled o'er

In aid of her design----

Darkness, O Queen! ne'er called before
To veil a deed of thine!

On borrowed wheels away she flies,
Resolved to be unknown,

And gratify no curious eyes

That night, except her own.

Arrived, a night like noon she sees,
And hears the million hum;
As all by instinct, like the bees,

Had known their sovereign come.

Pleased she beheld aloft pourtrayed

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 cumberous 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 nó such future sight,
Such previous woe the price!



BLINDED in youth by Satan's arts,
The world to our unpractised hearts
A flattering prospect shows;
Our fancy forms a thousand schemes
Of gay delights, and golden dreams,
And undisturbed repose.

So in the desert's dreary waste,
By magic power produced in haste
(As ancient fables say),

Castles, and groves, and music sweet,
The senses. of the traveller meet,
And stop him in his way.

But while he listens with surprise,
The charm dissolves, the vission dies,
'Twas but enchanted ground:
Thus if the Lord our spirit touch,
The world, which promised us so much,
A wilderness is found.

At first we start, and feel distrest,
Convinced we never can have rest
In such a wretched place;

But He whose mercy breaks the charm,
Reveals his own almighty arm,

And bids us seek his face.

Then we begin to live indeed,

When from our sin and bondage freed

By this beloved Friend :

We follow him from day to day,
Assured of grace through all the way,`
And glory at the end.


O LORD, my best desire fulfil,
And help me to resign

Life, health, and comfort to thy will,
And make thy pleasure mine.

Why should I shrink at thy command,
Whose love forbids my fears?
Or tremble at the gracious hand
That wipes away my tears?

No, let me rather freely yield
What most I prize to Thee;
Who never hast a good withheld,
Or wilt withhold from me.

Thy favour, all my journey through
Thou art engaged to grant ;
What else I want, or think I do,
'Tis better still to want.

Wisdom and mercy guide my way
Shall I resist them both?

A poor blind creature of a day,

And crushed before the moth!

But ah! my inward spirit cries,

Still bind me to thy sway;

Else the next cloud that veils my skies,
Drives all these thoughts away.


TWO nymphs, both nearly of an age,
Of numerous charms possessed,

A warm dispute once chanced to wage,
Whose temper was the best.

The worth of each had been complete,
Had both alike been mild :

But one, although her smile was sweet,
Frowned oftner than she smiled.

And in her humour, when she frowned,
Would raise her voice and roar,
And shake with fury to the ground
The garland that she wore.

The other was of gentler cast,
From all such frenzy clear,
Her frowns were seldom known to last,
And never proved severe.

To poets of renown in song

The nymphs referred the cause, Who, strange to tell, all judged it wrong, And gave misplaced applause.

They gentle called, and kind and soft,
The flippant and the scold,

And though she changed her mood so oft,
That failing left untold.

No judges, sure, were e'er so mad,

Or so resolved to err--

In short, the charms her sister had
They lavished all on her.

Then thus the god whom fondly they
Their great inspirer call,

Was heard one genial summer's day,
To reprimand them all.

"Since thus ye have combined," he said,
"My favourite nymph to slight,
"Adorning May, that peevish maid,

"With June's undoubted right,

“The Minx shall, for your folly's sake, "Still prove herself a shrew,

"Shall make your scribbling fingers ache,

"And pinch your noses blue."

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