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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 defpair.

VII.

But the fea fowl is gone to her nest,
The beaft is laid down in his lair,
Ev'n here is a season of rest,

And I to my cabin repair.

There is mercy in ev'ry place,
And mercy, encouraging thought!

Gives even affliction a grace,

And reconciles man to his lot.

On the Promotion of EDWARD THURLOW, Efq. to the Lord High-Chancellorship of England.

I.

ROUND Thurlow's head in early youth,

And in his fportive days,

Fair science pour'd the light of truth,

And genius fhed his rays.

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II.

See with united wonder, cry'd
Th' experienc'd and the fage,
Ambition in a boy supplied

With all the fkill of age.

III.

Difcernment, eloquence and grace,
Proclaim him born to fway

The balance in the highest place,
And bear the palm away.

IV.

The praise bestow'd was just and wife,

He sprang impetuous forth,

Secure of conqueft where the prize
Attends fuperior worth.

V.

So the best courfer on the plain
Ere yet he starts is known,
And does but at the goal obtain
What all had deem'd his own.

ODE

ODE TO PE A C E.

I.

COME, peace of mind, delightful guest!

Return and make thy downy nest

Once more in this fad 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 pleafure's fatal wiles?

For whom, alas! doft thou prepare

The fweets that I was wont to share,
The banquet of thy fmiles?

III.

The great, the gay, fhall they partake
The heav'n that thou alone canft make,

And wilt thou quit the ftream
That murmurs through the dewy mead,
The grove and the fequefter'd fhed,
To be a gueft with them?

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IV.

For thee I panted, thee I priz'd,
For thee I gladly facrific'd
Whate'er I lov'd before,

And fhall I fee thee start away,
And helpless, hopeless, hear thee say--
Farewell! we meet no more?

HUMAN

FRAILTY.

I.

WEAK and irrefolute is man;
The purpose of to day,
Woven with pains into his plan,
To-morrow rends away.

II.

The bow well bent and smart the spring,

Vice feems already flain,

But paffion rudely fnaps the ftring,

1

And it revives again.

III. Some

III.

Some foe to his upright intent

Finds out his weaker part,
Virtue engages his affent,
But pleasure wins his heart.

IV.

'Tis here the folly of the wife

Through all his art we view,

And while his tongue the charge denies,
His confcience owns it true.

V.

Bound on a voyage of great length
And dangers little known,

A ftranger to fuperior ftrength,
Man vainly trufts his own.

VI.

But oars alone can ne'er prevail

To reach the diftant coaft,

The breath of heav'n must swell the fail,

Or all the toil is loft.

THE

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