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VERSES, SUPPOSED TO BE WRITTEN BY ALEXANDER SELKIRK,

DURING HIS SOLITARY ABODE IN THE ISLAND OJ

JUAN FERNANDEZ.

1. I am monarch of all I survey,

My right there is none to dispute ;
From the centre all round to the sea,

I am lord of the fowl and the brute.
Oh, solitude! where are the charms
That
sages

have in thy face? Better dwell in the midst of alarms,

Than reign in this horrible place.

seen

II.

I am out of humanity's reach,

I must finish my journey alone, Never hear the sweet music of speech; I start at the sound of

my own. The beasts, that roam over the plain,

My form with indifference see; They are so unacquainted with man,

Their tameness is shocking to me.

III.

Society, friendship, and love,

Divinely bestow'd upon man,

Oh, had I the wings of a dove,

How soon would I taste you again? My sorrows. I then might assuage

In the ways of religion and truth, Might learn from the wisdom of age,

And be cheer'd by the sallies of youth.

IV.

Religion ! what treasure untold

Resides in that heavenly word!
More precious than silver and gold,

Or all that this earth can afford.
But the sound of the church-going bell

These vallies and rocks never heard, Ne'er sigh'd at the sound of a knell,

Or smil'd when a sabbath appear'd.

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!

Compar'd 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 her nest,

The beast is laid down in his lair; Ev'n here is a season of rest,

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 his lot.

OY THE PROMOTION OF

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.

II.

See! with united wonder, cried

Th' experienc'd and the sage, Ambition in a boy supplied

With all the skill of age!

III.

Discernment, eloquence, and grace,

Proclaim him born to sway The balance in the highest place,

And bear the palm away.

IV.

The praise bestow'd was just and wise ;

He sprang impetuous forth, Secure of conquest where the prize

Attends superior worth.

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ODE TO PEACE.

I.

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.

II.

Where wilt thou dwell, if not with me,
From av'rice and ambition free,

And pleasure's fatal wiles ?
For whom, alas! dost thou prepare
The sweets that I was wont to share,

The banquet of thy smiles ?

III.

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?

IV.
For thee I panted, thee I priz'd,
For thee I gladly sacrific'd

Whate'er I lov'd before;
And shall I see thee start away,
And, helpless, hopeless, hear thee say....

Farewell! we meet no more?

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