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We, therefore, pleas'd extol thy song,

Though various yet complete,
Rich in embellishment as strong,

And learned as 'tis sweet.
No envy mingles with our praise,

Though, could our hearts repine
At any poet's happier lays,

They would—they must at thine.
But we, in mutual bondage knit

Of friendship's closest tie,
Can gaze on even Darwin's wit

With an unjaundic'd eye;
And deem the Bard, whoe'er he be,

And howsoever known,
Who would not twine a wreath for Thee,

Unworthy of his own.

ON
MRS. MONTAGU’S FEATHER-HANGINGS.
The birds put off their ev'ry hue,
To dress a room for Montagu.

The Peacock sends his heav'nly dyes,
His rainbows and his starry eyes ;
The Pheasant-plumes, which round infold
His mantling neck with downy gold;
The Cock his arch'd tail's azure show;
And, river-blanch'd, the Swan his snow.
All tribes beside of Indian name,
That glossy shine, or vivid flame,
Where rises, and where sets the day,
Whate'er they boast of rich and gay,
Contribute to the gorgeous plan,
Proud to advance it all they can,
This plumage neither dashing show'r,
Nor blasts, that shake the dripping bow'r,
Shall drench again or discompose,
But, screen’d from ev'ry storm that blows,

It boasts a splendour ever new,
Safe with protecting Montagu.

To the same patroness resort,
Secure of favour at her court,
Strong Genius, from whose forge of thought
Forms rise, to quick perfection wrought,
Which, though new born, with vigour move,
Like Pallas springing arm'd from Jove-
Imagination scatt’ring round
Wild roses over furrow'd ground,
Which Labour of his frown beguile,
And teach Philosophy a smile-
Wit flashing on Religion's side,
Whose fires, to sacred Truth applied,
The gem, though luminous before,
Obtrude on human notice more,
Like sunbeams on the golden height
Of some tall temple playing bright-
Well-tutor'd Learning, from his books
Dismiss'd with grave, not haughty, looks,
Their order on his shelves exact,
Not more harmonious or compact
Than that, to which he keeps confin'd
The various treasures of his mind-
All these to Montagu's repair,
Ambitious of a shelter there.
There Genius, Learning, Fancy, Wit,
Their ruffled plumage calm refit,
(For stormy troubles loudest roar
Around their flight who highest soar)
And in her eye, and by her aid,
Shine safe without a fear to fade.

She thus maintains divided sway
With

yon bright regent of the day;
The plume and poet both, we know,
Their lustre to his influence owe;
And she the works of Phoebus aiding,
Both poet saves and plume from fading.

VERSES Supposed to be written by Alexander Selkirk, during his solitary

abode in the island of Juan Fernandez.
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.
0, Solitude ! where are the charms

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

Than reign in this horrible place.
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

unacquainted with man,
Their tameness is shocking to me,
Society, friendship, and love,

Divinely bestow'd upon man,
0, 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.
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 valleys and rocks never heard,
Never sigh'd at the sound of a knell,

Or smil'd when a sabbath appear'd.

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? 0, tell me I yet have a friend,

Though a friend I am never to see. 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. But, the seafowl is gone to her nest,

The beast is laid down irr his lair; Even 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.

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,
Fair Science pour'd the light of truth,
And Genius shed his rays.

“ See ! ” with united wonder cried

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

With all the skill of age ! “ Discernment, eloquence, and grace

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

And bear the palm away."
The praise bestow'd was just and wise ;

He sprang impetuous forth
Secure of conquest, where the prize

Attends superior worth.
So the best courser on the plain

Ere yet he starts is known,
And

does but at the goal obtain 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. 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 ? 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 groye and the sequester'd shed,

To be a guest with them?

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