ODE TO PEACE. COME, peace of mind, delightful guest! 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 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, For thee I panted, thee I prized, Whate'er I loved before; And shall I see thee start away, And helpless, hopeless, hear thee say— HUMAN FRAILTY. WEAK and irresolute is man; The purpose of to-day, The bow well bent, and smart the spring, Some foe to his upright intent Virtue engages his assent, But Pleasure wins his heart. 'Tis here the folly of the wise Bound on a voyage of awful length A stranger to superior strength, But oars alone can ne'er prevail The breath of Heaven must swell the sail, Or all the toil is lost. THE MODERN PATRIOT. REBELLION is my theme all day; (As who knows but perhaps it may?) A little nearer home. Yon roaring boys, who rave and fight I always held them in the right, When lawless mobs insult the court, But O! for him my fancy culls Who constitutionally pulls Your house about your ears. Such civil broils are my delight, Though some folks can't endure them, Who say the mob are mad outright, A rope! I wish we patriots had Such strings for all who need 'emWhat! hang a man for going mad! Then farewell British freedom. ON THE BURNING OF LORD MANSFIELD'S LIBRARY, TOGETHER WITH HIS MSS. BY THE MOB, IN THE So then the Vandals of our isle, And Murray sighs o'er Pope and Swift, Their pages mangled, burnt, and torn, The loss was his alone; But ages yet to come shall mourn ON THE SAME. WHEN wit and genius meet their doom They tell us of the fate of Rome, And bid us fear the same. LORD MANSFIELD'S LIBRARY. O'er Murray's loss the Muses wept, Yet bless'd the guardian care that kept There Memory, like the bee that's fed Had treasured up before. The lawless herd, with fury blind, Have done him cruel wrong; The flowers are gone-but still we find 217 THE LOVE OF THE WORLD REPROVED; OR, HYPOCRISY DETECTED.1 THUS says the prophet of the Turk, No friend or follower of mine. 1 It may be proper to inform the reader that this piece has already appeared in print, having found its way, though with some unnecessary additions by an unknown hand, into the Leeds Journal, without the author's privity. |