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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 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. Religion! what treasure untold
Resides in that heavenly word !
Or all that this earth can afford.
These valleys and rocks never heard, Ne'er 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? Oh 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,
And I to my cabin repair.
And mercy, encouraging thought!
And reconciles man to his lot.
PROMOTION OF EDWARD THURLOW, ESQ.
LORD HIGH CHANCELLORSHIP OF ENGLAND.
Round Thurlow's head in early youth,
And in his sportive days,
And genius shed his rays.
The experienced and the sage,
With all the skill of age.
Proclaim him born to sway
And bear the palm away.
He sprang impetuous forth,
Attends superior worth.
Ere yet he starts is known,
What all had deem'd his own.
ODE TO PEACE.
Once more in this sad heart :
Nor riches I, nor power pursue,
We therefore need not part.
And pleasure's fatal wiles ?
The banquet of thy smiles ?
And wilt thou quit the stream
To be a guest with them ?
Whate'er I loved before ;
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.
Vice seems already slain,
And it revives again.
Finds out his weaker part,
But pleasure wins his heart. 'Tis here the folly of the wise
Through all his art we view,
And while his tongue the charge denies,
His conscience owns it true.
And dangers little known,
Man vainly trusts his own.
To reach the distant coast, The breath of heaven must swell the sail,
Or all the toil is lost.
THE MODERN PATRIOT.
REBELLION is my theme all day,
I only wish ’t would come
A little nearer home.
On the other side the Atlantic,
But most so, when most frantic.
That man shall be my toast,
Who bravely breaks the most.
The choicest flowers she bears, Who constitutionally pulls
Your house about your ears. Such civil broils are my delight,
Though some folks can't endure 'em, Who say the mob are mad outright,
And that a rope must cure 'em. 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.
OBSERVING SOME NAMES OF LITTLE NOTE
RECORDED IN THE BIOGRAPHIA BRITANNICA.
Oh fond attempt to give a deathless lot,
So when a child, as playful children use,
REPORT OF AN ADJUDGED CASE
NOT TO BE FOUND IN ANY OF THE BOOKS.
BETWEEN Nose and Eyes a strange contest arose,
The spectacles set them unhappily wrong ;
To which the said spectacles ought to belong.
With a great deal of skill, and a wig full of learnWhile chief baron Ear sat to balance the laws, (ing,
So famed for his talent in nicely discerning. In behalf of the Nose, it will quickly appear,
And your lordship, he said, will undoubtedly find, That the Nose has had spectacles always in wear,
Which amounts to possession time out of mind. Then holding the spectacles up to the court,
Your lordship observes they are made with a stradAs wide as the ridge of the Nose is, in short, [dle,
Design’d to sit close to it, just like a saddle.