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hose wretches who, ordain'd in Freedom's In numbers here below the Bard shall teach Virtue to soar beyond the villain's reach; Shall tear his lab'ring lungs, strain his hoarse throat,
ve up our liberties, and sold our laws;
his the land, where, in those worst of times,
I made them fear the Muse who fear'd not ow do I laugh when men of narrow souls, om folly guides and prejudice controuls; o one dull drowsy track of business trod, ship their Mamnion, and neglect their God; o, breathing by one musty set of rules, e from the birth, and are by system fools; o, form'd to dulness from their very youth, of the day prefer to Gospel-truth; up their little knowledge from Reviews, lay out all their stock of faith in news : do I laugh, when creatures form'd like these, [please, m Reason scorns, and I should blush to at all lib'ral arts, deem verse a crime, hold not Truth as Truth if told in rhyme! w do I laugh, when Publius, hoary grown, al for Scotland's welfare and his own, ow degrees, and course of office, drawn ood and figure at the helin to yawn ; nean (the worst of curses Heav'n can send) ve a foe, too proud to have a friend, g by form, which blockheads sacred hold, making new faults, and ne'er mending kes my spirit, bids the daring Muse [old, ets more equal to her weakness choose; her frequent the haunts of humble swains, dare to traffic in ambitious strains; her, indulging the poetic whit
at wrought ode, or sonnet pertly trim, g the church-way path complain with Gray,
And raise his voice beyond the trumpet's note,
How do I laugh when men, by fortune plac'd
And, mean themselves, are of their fathers vain;
What,shall a reptile Bard, awretch unknown, "Without one badge of merit, but his own, "Great Nobles lash, and Lords like comion [pen?" "Smart from the vengeance of a scribbler's What's in the name of Lord, that I should fear To bring their vices to the public ear? Flows not the honest blood of humble swains Quick as the tide which swells a Monarch's
Monarchs, who wealth and titles can bestow,
Follow his steps, and be his virtue's heir.
Would drive him, shudd'ring from the face of earth,
Once more, with shame and sorrow, 'mongst
In endless night to hide his rev'rend head;
nce with Mason on the first of May!
Probe thy foul wounds, and lay thy bosom bare
Gods! with what pride I see the titled slave,
How do I laugh, when, with affected air, (Scarce able, thro' despite, to heep his chair, Whilst on his trembling lip pale anger speaks, And the chaf'd blood flies mounting to his cheeks)
He talks of Conscience, which good men secures From all those evil moments guilt endures, And seems to laugh at those who pay regard To the wild ravings of a frantic bard!
Satire, whilst envy and ill humour sway "The mind of man,must always make her way; "Nor to a bosom with discretion fraught
Is all her malice worth a single thought: "The Wise have not the will, nor Fools the "pow'r
"To stop her headstrong course; within the hour,
"Left to herself, she dies; opposing strife "Gives her fresh vigour, and prolongs her life. "All things her prey, and ev'ry man her aim, "I can no patent for exemption claim;
Nor would I wish to stop that harmless dart "Which plays around, but cannot wound my "heart:
"Tho' pointed at myself, be Satire free; "To her 'tis pleasure, and no pain to ine." Dissembling wretch! hence to the Stoic school,
And there amongst thy brethren play the fool; There unrebuk'd, these wild, vain doctrines preach:
Lives there a man, whom Satire cannot reach?
Those actions which he blush'd not to commit:
And dar'd expose those slaves, who dar'd support A tyrant plan, and call'd themselves a Coun? Ah! what are Poets now? As slavish those Who deal in verse as those who deal in prose. Is there an Author, search the kingdom rouse, In whom true worth and real spirit's found? The slaves of Booksellers, or (doom'd by far To baser chains) vile pensioners of State? Some, dead to shame, and of those shackles proud
Which Honour scorns, for slav'ry roar alood; Others, half-palsied only, mutes become, And what makes Smollet write makes Johnson dumb.
Why turns yon' villain pale? why bends lis
Into my breast, and flatter to betray:
But if thy niggard hands their gifts withh
To ope the fountain whence Sedition spring To slander Government, and libel Kings; With Freedom's name to serve a present bow Tho' horn and bred to arbitrary pow'r; To talk of William with insidious art, Whilst a vile Stuart 's lurking in his heart; And, whilst mean Envy rears her loathsam Flatt'ring the living, to abuse the dead, her
Where is Shebbeare? O, let not foul reproach,
With rude unnatʼral jargon to support,
prove that chains and freedom are but one, That to be sav'd must mean to be undone, s there not Guthrie? Who, like him, can call Il opposites to proof, and conquer all? e calls forth living waters from the rock; e calls forth children from the barren stock; far beyond the springs of Nature led, akes women bring forth after they are dead; 2, on a curious, new, and happy plan, wedlock's sacred bands joins man to man; id, to complete the whole, most strange, but
Some rare magic makes them fruitful too; hilst from their loius, in the due course of
So gentle, yet so brisk; so wond'rous sweet,
Who looks as he the Lord's rich vinevard trod,
His tongue is deadly-from his presence run,
d the life-blood run backward to her seat? st thou contrive, for some base private end, ne sclfish view, to hang a trusting friend, lure him on, e'en to his parting breath, I promise life to work him surer death? wn old in villany, and dead to grace,
in his heart, and Tyburn in his face: cold a Parson at thy elbow stands, v'ring damnation, and with open hands, e to betray his Saviour for reward,
By Cleland tutor'd, and with Blacow ħred. (Blacow, whom, by a brave resentiment led,
ows the rich blood of Guthrie's English Peers. Oxford, if Oxford had not sunk in fathe, Dost thou contrive some blacker deed of Ere this, had damn'd to everlasting shame) [name,Their steps he follows, and their crimes par
shame, nething which Nature shudders but to nothing which makes the soul of man re-To Virtue lost, to Vice alone he wakes; Most lusciously declaims 'gainst luscious themes,
Atheist Chaplain of an Atheist Lord! red to the Church, and for the gown decreed, It was known that I should learn to read; o' that was nothing, for my friends, who at mighty Dulness of itself could do, [knew er design'd me for a working Priest, hop'd I should have been a Dean at least; demu’d (like many more,and worthier men, whom I pledge the service of my pen), demn'd (whilst proud and pamper'd Sons
mm'd to the throat, in lazy plenty yawn)
The plan of doctrine's never thought of more;
And, whist he rails at blasphemy, blasphemes.
Are these the arts which Policy supplies? Are these the steps by which grave Church men rise?
Forbid it, Ileav'n! or, should it turn out so,
Me! me!-kill me! me, who bore him!
Perish'd in the bloody field;
On us both the earth be pil'd.
Cloud-clad ghosts unnumber'd rise; Pale, wan looks, that speak contrition; Blood-stain'd cheeks and hollow eyes, More in number than the ocean
Rolls the pebbles on its shore, See they come! and lo! a motion From a hand all red with gore! "Listen, listen, sons of sorrow, "Few and evil were your days; "To-day the cowslip buds, to-morrow "Low the scythe the cowslip lays. "We, like you, O! heed our warning, "Warriors were, all blythe and gay, "But we fell in life's bright morning, "Ere we knew the joys of day. "Sons of men, all doom'd to trouble, "Travelling quickly to the grave, Sheath the sword, for fame's a bubble; "Live to bless, Q live to save! "Life to be enjoy'd was given; "Such the will of him above; "Live and love, make earth a heaven, "God made men to live and love! "Hark! the skies with music ringing, "Silver sounds the concave fill; "Angels voices sweetly singing, "Peace on Earth, to men good-will."
Youth and beauty, lo! advance, Light and gay as love can be, Nimbly tripping in the dance, Clad in robes of Charity.
Babes and mothers lift the head,
Lovelier still, if that can be,
§ 257. On the late Queen of France. Ir thy breast soft pity knows, O! drop a tear with me; Feel for the unexampled woes Of widow'd royalty.
Fallen, fallen, fallen from a throne! Lo! beauty, grandeur, power; Hark! 'tis a queen's, a mother's moan, From yonder dismal tower.
I hear her say, or seem to say, "Ye who listen to my story, "Learn how transient beauty's day, "How unstable human glory. "And when ye hear that I was frail, "O! think what now I bear, "Heed not the page of scandal's tale, "But blot it with a tear."
§ 258. Verses, by DR. GLYNN. TEASE me no more, nor think I care
Tho' monarchs bow at Kitty's shrine; Or powder'd coxcombs woo the fair, Since Kitty is no longer mine. Indifferent 'tis alike to me,
If my favourite dove be stole,
§ 256. Written on Occasion of a Ball, in which If
WEAVE the web of brightest blue,
Rich in mines of golden ore, Dejected, see the merchant's crew Transport it to a foreign shore. Seeks the slave despoil'd, to know, Whether his gold in shape of lace Shine on the coat of birth-day beau, Or wear the stamp of George's face?
The Lotos of Egypt; a Poem. By the Rev. T. MAURICE.
EMBLEM sublime of that primordial power
That brooded o'er the vast chaotic wave, Accept my duteous homage, holy flower,
As in thy favorite flood my limbs I lave. From Ethiopia's lofty mountains roll'd, Where Nile's proud stream thro' gladden'd' Egypt pours, fold,
In raptured strains thy praise was hymn'd of And still resounds on Ganges' faithful shores!
Within thy beauteous coral's full-blown bell Long since the immortals fix'd their fondabode; [dwell, There day's bright source, OSIRIS, loved to While by his side enamour'd Isis glow'd. Hence, not unconscious to his orient beam, At dawn's first blush thy radiant petals spread,
Drink deep the effulgence of the solar stream, And, as he mounts, still brighter glories shed.
When at the noon-tide height his fervid rays
In a bright deluge burst on CAIRO's plains, With what new lustre then thy beauties blaze,
Full of the God, and radiant with its fires! Brilliant thyself, in store of dazzling white
Thy sister plants more gaudy robes unfold; This flames in purple-that intensely bright,
Amid th' illumin'd waters burns in gold. To brave the tropics' fiery beam is thine,
Till in the distant west his splendours fade; Then too thy beauty and thy fire decline,
With morn to rise in lovelier charms array'd. Thus from Arabia borne, on golden wings,
The Phoenix on the sun's bright altar dies; But from his flaming bed, refulgent, springs, 'And cleaves, with bolder plume, the sapphire skies.
What mystic treasures in thy form conceal'd Perpetual transport to the sage supply; Where nature in her deep designs reveal'd, Awes wondering man, and charms th' exploring eye.
In thy prolific cup, and fertile seeds,
Are traced her grand regenerative powers; Life springing warm from loath'd putrescence breeds, [flowers. And lovelier gerins shoot forth and brighter Nor food to the enlighten'd mind alone, Substantial nutriment thy root bestow'd; In famine's vulture fangs did Egypt groan, From thy rich bounteous horn abundance flow'd.
Hence the immortal race in Thebes revered, Thy praise the theme of endless rapture made; Thy image on an hundred columns rear'd, And veil'd their altars with thine hallow'd