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Compar'd with the speed of it's 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;
The beast is laid down in his lair ;
And I to my cabin repair. There's mercy in every place,
And mercy, encouraging thought ! Gives even affliction a grace,
And reconciles man to bis lot.
ON THE PROMOTION OF
EDWARD THURLOW, Esq.,
TO THE LORD HIGH CHANCELLORSHIP OF ENGLAND.
Round Thurlow's head in early youth,
And in his sportive days,
And Genius shed his rays.
See! with united wonder cried
Th' experienc'd and the sage,
Proclaim him born to sway
And bear the palm away.
IV. The praise bestow'd was just and wise ;
He sprang impetuous forth
Ere yet he starts is known,
What all had deem'd his own.
ODE TO PEACE.
Come, peace of mind, delightful guest! Return and make thy downy nest
Once more in this sad heart: Nor riches I nor pow'r pursue, Nor hold forbidden joys in view; We therefore need not part.
And pleasure's fatal wiles ?
T'he banquet of thy smiles ?
The great, the gay, shall they partake The Heav'n that thou alone canst make ?
And wilt thou quit the stream, That murmurs through the dewy mead, The grove and the sequester'd shed,
To be a guest with them?