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O 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 so unacquainted with man,

Their tameness is shocking to me. Society, friendship, and love,

Divinely bestowed 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 smiled 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?
O tell me I yet have a friend,

Though a friend I am never to see. How fleet is a glance of the mind !

Compared 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 sea-fowl is gone to her nest,

The beast is laid down in 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.



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

The experienced and the sage,
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.


COME, peace of mind, delightful guest Return, and make thy downy nest

Once more in this sad heart: Nor riches I nor power pursue, Nor hold forbidden joys in view ;

We therefore need not part.
Where wilt thou dwell, if not with me,
From avarice 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 heaven 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?
For thee I panted, thee I prized,
For thee I gladly sacrificed

Whate'er I loved before;
And shall I see thee start away,
And helpless, hopeless, hear thee say-

Farewell! we meet no more!

WEAK and irresolute is man,

The purpose of to-day,
Woven with pains into his plan,

To-morrow rends away.
The bow well bent, and smart the spring

Vice seems already slain ;
But Passion rudely snaps the string,

And it revives again.

Some foe to his upright intent

Finds out his weaker part; Virtue engages his assent,

But Pleasure wins his heart.

"Tis here the folly of the wise

Through all his heart we view;
And, while his tongue the charge denies,

His conscience owns it true.

Bound on a voyage of awful length

And dangers little known,
A stranger to superior strength,

Man vainly trusts his own.

But oars alone can ne'er prevail,

To reach the distant coast;
The breath of heaven must swell the sail,

Or all the toil is lost.

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REBELLION is my theme all day;

I only wish 'twould come (As who knows but perhaps it may !)

A little nearer home.

Yon roaring boys who rave and fight

On t'other side th' Atlantic,
I always held them in the right,

But most so when most frantic.

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When lawless mobs insult the court,

That man shall be my toast,
If breaking windows be the sport,

Who bravely breaks the most.

But O! for him my fancy culls

The choicest flowers she bears, Who constitutionally pulls

Your house about vour ears.

Such civil broils are my delight,

Though some folks can't endure them,
Who say the mob are mad outright,

And that a rope must cure them.
A rope! I wish we patriots had

Such strings for all who need 'em
What! hang a man for going mad?

Then farewell British freedom !


Ox, fond attempt to give a deathless lot
To names ignoble, born to be forgot !
In vain, recorded in historic page,
They court the notice of a future age:
Those twinkling tiny lustres of the land
Drop one by one from Fame's neglecting hand ;
Lethæan gulfs receive them as they fall,
And dark oblivion soon absorbs them all.

So when a child, as playful children use,
Has burnt to tinder a stale last year's news,
The flame extinct, he views the roving fire
There goes my lady, and there goes the 'squire,
There goes the parson, oh illustrious spark !
And there, scarce less illustrious, goes the clerk!


BETWEEN Nose and Eyes a strange contest arose,

The spectacles set them unhappily wrong:
The point in dispute was, as all the world knows,

To which the said spectacles ought to belong.
So Tongue was the lawyer, and argued the cause

With a great deal of skill, and a wig full of learni j; While chief baron Ear sat to balance the laws,

So famed for his talent in nicely discerning.

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