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ODE

To SILENCE, alias UNANIMITY.

Thou then art come to Albion's sea-girt shore,
Silence! stern God, to whom of yore

The swart Egyptian bow'd the knee !
Thou then art come! but now no more
A boy, and gentle as before,

Whose lip-laid finger motions quietness;
But with the dungeon key,

And lifting in thine hand the iron rod,

To Albion thou art come, Silence! tremendous God.

Demon of sullen brow,

No child of Isis thou;

No God infus'd thy being, dreadful power!

Thee to Oppression Terror bore.

All

When on the shuddering maid
His grasp the Tyrant laid,

agony she felt his brute embrace.

And when the tedious term was gone,

Mid many a pang and many a groan, When thou wert born, the offspring of disgrace, She cast a loathing look upon her boy, Child of no mother's joy.

Is there a voice that dares profane

The stillness of thy reign?

Lo! where, built by British hands,

Dreadful Power, thy temple stands !

There where the damp surrounding stone

Echoes sick Misery's groan;

There where no voice of friendship may intrude

On the long solitude;

There shall he lie who dares profane

The stillness of thy reign.

But what on earth endures for ever?
Not the holy pile of Laws

That Liberty, with long endeavour,
Rais'd to be the world's applause!

Not thy Gallic temple stood
Where the damp surrounding stone
Echo'd sick Misery's groan,

Where never voice of friendship could intrude

On the long solitude.

Not always in Dalilah's lap reclin'd

Did Sampson let his crafty foes

Around his sleeping limbs their fetters bind :

He felt, he woke, he rose ;

Who then could save

The fierce Philistines from their waken'd slave?

The GALLINIPPER.

I.

A Hunting party once there met
(A strange and heterogeneous set,)

So mix'd a group was never seen before: The day was hot, they made good cheer, And should my reader ask me where,

I'll say on the Musquito shore.

II.

The dinner o'er, the wines abound,
And many a bottle quick went round,
And many a merry tale was told:
At length the subject graver grown,
And taking quite a different tone,

On ancient metaphysics roll'd.

III.

A learned traveller took the lead,
A Doctor who had fill'd his head
With maxims most heroic;

He swore that what the world call'd pain
Was but a phantom of the brain,

And never yet was felt by Stoic.

IV.

And added, I am ready, since
My arguments will not convince,

An hour in yonder swamp to lie;
Stript naked there I'll bear the sting
Of every insect you can bring,

Both those that crawl, and those that fly.

V.

Each one was anxious when he heard
This speech, to take him at his word;

And 'mongst them all it made a bustle : And now a rump and dozen is the bet Which he must forfeit to this merry set

Should he but speak or move a muscle.

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