IV. Religion! what treasure untold V. 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. VI. How fleet is a glance of the mind! Compard 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. VII. But the sea-fowl is gone to hor nest, And I to my cabin repair. And reconciles man to his lot ON THE PROMOTION CE EDWARD THURLOW, ESQ. To the Lord High Chancellorship of England. I. ROUND Thurlow's head, in early youth, And in his sportive days, Fair Science pour'd the light of truth And Genius shed his rays Discernment, eloquence, and grace, The balance in the highest place, And bear the palm away. IV. The praise bestow'd was just and wise Secure of conquest, where the prize V. So the best courser on the plain ODE TO PEACE. I. COME, peace of mind, delightful guest! Once more in this sad heart: Where wilt thou dwell, if not with me, And pleasure's fatal wiles? For whom, alas! dost thou prepare III. The great, the gay, shall they partake, That murmurs through the dewy mead, IV. For thee I panted, thee I priz'd, Whate'er I lov'd before; And shall I see thee start away, HUMAN FRAILTY. 1. WEAK and irresolute is man; The purpose of to-day, Woven with pains into his plan, To-morrow rends away. II. The bow well bent, and smart the spring, Vice seems already slain ; But Passion rudely snaps the string, III. Some foe to his upright intent Finds out his weaker part ; Virtue engages his assent, But Pleasure wins his heart. IV. Tis here the folly of the wise Through all his heart we view; And, while his tongue the charge denies, His conscience owns it true. V. Bound on a voyage of awful length And dangers little known, A stranger to superiour strength, Man vainly trusts his own. VI. But oars alone can ne'er prevail, To reach the distant coast; The breath of Heav'n must swell the sail, Or all the toil is lost. THE MODERN PATRIOT. I. REBELLION is my theme all day: (As who knows but perhaps it may ?) II. Yon roaring boys, who rave and fight I always held thein in the right, III. When lawless mobs insult the court, But, O! for him my fancy culls The choicest flow'rs she bears, Who constitutionally pulls Your house about your ears. Such civil broils are my delight, Though some folks can't endure them, Who say the mob are mad outright, And that a rope must cure them. A rope! I wish we patriots had Such strings for all who need 'emWhat! hang a man for going mad! Then farewell British freedom. |