The trumpet sounds, your legions swarm abroad,
Through the ripe harvest lies their destined road;
At every step beneath their feet they tread
The life of multitudes, a nation's bread!
Earth seems a garden in its loveliest dress
Before them, and behind a wilderness.
Famine, and Pestilence, her first-born son,
Attend to finish what the sword begun;
And echoing praises, such as fiends might earn,
And Folly pays, resound at your return.
A calm succeeds-but Plenty, with her train
Of heartfelt joys, succeeds not soon again,
And years of pining indigence must show
What scourges are the gods that rule below.

Yet man, laborious man, by slow degrees (Such is his thirst of opulence and ease), Plies all the sinews of industrious toil, Gleans up the refuse of the general spoil, Rebuilds the towers that smoked upon the plain, And the sun gilds the shining spires again.

Increasing commerce, and reviving art, Renew the quarrel on the conqueror's part; And the sad lesson must be learn'd once more, That wealth within is ruin at the door.

What are ye, monarchs, laurel'd heroes, say, But Ætnas of the suffering world ye sway? Sweet Nature, stripp'd of her embroider'd robe, Deplores the wasted regions of her globe; And stands a witness at Truth's awful bar, To prove you there destroyers, as ye are.

O place me in some Heaven-protected isle, Where Peace, and Equity, and Freedom smile; Where no volcano pours his fiery flood, No crested warrior dips his plume in blood;

Where Power secures what Industry has won;
Where to succeed is not to be undone ;
A land that distant tyrants hate in vain,
In Britain's isle, beneath a George's reign!

ON FRIENDSHIP.

"Amicitia nisi inter bonos esse non potest."

CICERO.

[1782.]

WHAT virtue can we name, or grace,
But men unqualified and base

Will boast it their possession?
Profusion the noble part

apes

Of liberality of heart,

And dulness, of discretion.

But as the gem of richest cost
Is ever counterfeited most,
So, always, imitation

Employs the utmost skill she can
To counterfeit the faithful man,
The friend of long duration.

Some will pronounce me too severe,
But long experience speaks me clear;
Therefore, that censure scorning,
I will proceed to mark the shelves
On which so many dash themselves,
And give the simple warning.

Youth, unadmonish'd by a guide,
Will trust to any fair outside,-
An error soon corrected;

For who but learns, with riper years,
That man, when smoothest he appears,
Is most to be suspected?

But here again a danger lies,
Lest, thus deluded by our eyes,
And taking trash for treasure,
We should, when undeceived, conclude
Friendship imaginary good,

A mere Utopian pleasure.

An acquisition rather rare
Is yet no subject of despair;

Nor should it seem distressful,
If, either on forbidden ground,
Or where it was not to be found,
We sought it unsuccessful.

No friendship will abide the test
That stands on sordid interest

And mean self-love erected; Nor such as may awhile subsist "Twixt sensualist and sensualist,

For vicious ends connected.

Who hopes a friend, should have a heart Himself, well-furnish'd for the part,

And ready on occasion

To show the virtue that he seeks;

For 'tis an union that bespeaks

A just reciprocation.

A fretful temper will divide
The closest knot that may be tied,
By ceaseless sharp corrosion :
A temper passionate and fierce
May suddenly your joys disperse
At one immense explosion.

In vain the talkative unite
With hope of permanent delight;
The secret just committed

They drop, through mere desire to prate,
Forgetting its important weight,

And by themselves outwitted.

How bright soe'er the prospect seems,
All thoughts of friendship are but dreams,
If envy chance to creep in;

An envious man, if you succeed,
May prove a dangerous foe indeed,
But not a friend worth keeping.

As envy pines at good possess'd,
So jealousy looks forth distress'd,

On good that seems approaching;
And, if success his steps attend,
Discerns a rival in a friend,

And hates him for encroaching.

Hence authors of illustrious name
(Unless belied by common fame),
Are sadly prone to quarrel;
To deem the wit a friend displays
So much of loss to their own praise,
And pluck each other's laurel.

A man renown'd for repartee
Will seldom scruple to make free
With friendship's finest feeling;
Will thrust a dagger at your breast,
And tell you 'twas a special jest,
By way of balm for healing.

Beware of tattlers; keep your ear
Close stopp'd against the tales they bear,-
Fruits of their own invention;

The separation of chief friends

Is what their kindness most intends;
Their sport is your dissension.

Friendship that wantonly admits
A joco-serious play of wits

In brilliant altercation,
Is union such as indicates,

Like Hand-in-Hand insurance plates,

Danger of conflagration.

Some fickle creatures boast a soul

True as a needle to the pole ;

Yet shifting, like the weather, The needle's constancy forego For any novelty, and show

Its variations rather.

Insensibility makes some
Unseasonably deaf and dumb,

When most you need their pity;
'Tis waiting till the tears shall fall
From Gog and Magog in Guildhall,—
Those playthings of the City