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He spells them true by intuition's light,
And needs no gloffary to fet him right.

This truth premised was needful as a text,
To win due credence to what follows next.
Awhile they mufed; furveying every face,
Thou hadft fuppofed them of superior race;
Their periwigs of wool, and fears combined,
Stamped on each countenance fuch marks of mind,
That fage they seemed, as lawyers o'er a doubt,
Which, puzzling long, at last they puzzle out;
Or academic tutors, teaching youths,

Sure ne'er to want them, mathematic truths;
When thus a mutton, statelier than the reft,
A ram, the ewes and wethers fad, addreffed.
Friends! we have lived too long. I never heard
Sounds fuch as thefe, fo worthy to be feared.
Could I believe that winds for ages pent

In earth's dark womb have found at laft a vent,
And from their prifon-house below arise,
With all these hideous howlings to the skies,
I could be much composed, nor should appear
For fuch a cause to feel the flightest fear.
Yourselves have seen, what time the thunders rolled
All night, we refting quiet in the fold.

Or heard we that tremendous bray alone,
could expound the melancholy tone;

Should deem it by our old companion made,
The afs; for he, we know, has lately ftrayed,
And being loft perhaps, and wandering wide,
Might be supposed to clamour for a guide.
But ah! those dreadful yells what foul can hear,
That owns a carcase, and not quake for fear?
Dæmons produce them doubtless, brazen-clawed
And fanged with brass the dæmons are abroad;
I hold it therefore wisest and most fit,

That life to fave, we leap into the pit.

Him answered then his loving mate and true,
But more difcreet than he, a Cambrian ewe.
How? leap into the pit our life to save?
To fave our life leap all into the grave?
For can we find it lefs? Contemplate first
The depth how awful! falling there, we burst:
Or fhould the brambles, interpofed, our fall
In part abate, that happiness were fmall;
For with a race like theirs no chance I fee

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Of peace or ease to creatures clad as we. Meantime, noise kills not. Be it Dapple's bray, Or be it not, or be it whose it may,

And rush those other founds, that seem by tongues
Of dæmons uttered, from whatever lungs,
Sounds are but founds, and till the cause appear
We have at least commodious ftanding here.

Come fiend, come fury, giant, monster, blast
From earth or hell, we can but plunge at laft.

While thus fhe spake, I fainter heard the peals, For Reynard, close attended at his heels

By panting dog, tired man, and spattered horse,
Through mere good fortune, took a different course.
The flock grew calm again, and I, the road
Following, that led me to my own abode,
Much wondered that the filly sheep had found
Such cause of terror in an empty found
So fweet to huntsman, gentleman, and hound.

MORAL,

Beware of desperate fteps. The darkest day,
Live till to-morrow, will have paffed away.

BOADICE A.

AN ODE.

I.

WHEN the British warrior queen,
Bleeding from the Roman rods,
Sought, with an indignant mien,
Counsel of her country's gods,

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Weep upon thy matchless wrongs,

"Tis because refentment ties

All the terrors of our tongues.

IV.

Rome shall perish-write that word
In the blood that she has spilt;
Perish, hopeless and abhorred,
Deep in ruin as in guilt.

V.

Rome, for empire far renowned, · Tramples on a thousand states; Soon her pride shall kiss the groundHark! the Gaul is at her gates!

VI.

Other Romans hall arife,

Heedlefs of a foldier's name;

Sounds, not arms fhall win the prize, Harmony the path to fame.

VII.

Then the progeny that springs

From the forefts of our land, Armed with thunder, clad with wings, Shall a wider world command.

VIII.

Regions Cæfar never knew

Thy pofterity shall sway;

Where his eagles never flew,
None invincible as they.

IX.

Such the bard's prophetic words,
Pregnant with celeftial fire,
Bending as he swept the chords

Of his sweet but awful lyre.

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