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"The robber's creed, the murd❜rer's test, "In Gallia's false embroid'ry drest, "Were rights of injur❜d man;

"And much he rav'd of Priests and Kings, "Of order that from tumult springs, "And Nature's equal plan.

"And thus (the general ear abus'd, "And deadliest hebenon infus'd

"To quench the virtuous spark ;) "Deep in his bosom's gloomy cell "The poor man's heart was taught to dwell, "A prison damp and dark.

"Ah! how unlike the jocund breast, "Of Truth and Joy the halcyon nest, "Our Erin's antient pride;

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"The harmless taunt, the noisy joke,
Smiles, that the honest heart bespoke,
"And sports, that Care deride!

"The Demon spies the alter'd scene;
"He notes the peasant's vengeful mien,
"He marks the treasonous lore;
"He limes the snare with potent spell,
"And the dark compact, brew'd in hell,
"Flits round the ravag'd shore.

"Henry!-the merry pipe no more "Assembles on the rustic floor.

"The lightly-bounding throng;

"No quenchless laughter shakes the croud, "While the rude plaudits echo loud, "To hail the jovial song.

"Far other orgies claim them now;
"Low-mutter'd sounds of murd'rous vow,
"While Horror chills their breath,
"A blood-stain'd scroll the Demon holds,
"And to their shrinking eyes unfolds
"Dire plans of ambush'd death.

"Scarce have warm tears bedew'd the grave
"Of valu'd friends, the learn'd, the brave;
"When some new horrors rise!
"Th' insidious Gaul, with slacken'd sail,
"Smiles ghastly, as the tainted gale
"Comes freighted with our sighs.

"Vaunt not, O France, to honour lost,
"And stain'd with crimes! thy clust'ring host,
"That warps upon the gales;
"God's licens'd messengers of ills!

His mercy far from Erin's hills,

"Shall dash thy shatter'd sails.

"I see, I see a gallant band,
"Combin'd in loyal union stand,
"And lift the patriot shield :
"I see new glories gild our isle,
"And Concord beam her genial smile
"On Erin's verdant field.

"Is Henry there ?— -Alas! in vain,
"These air-form'd orbs of sight I strain
"To see my Henry there-

"That mind, whose pinions soar'd so well,
"Now flick'ring low in Party's cell,

"Forgets its plighted care.

(

"Let him, whose deeds at int'rest aim, "On shielded outrage build his fame, "Sedition's venal slave;

"To nobler views thy thoughts expand, "Thy King, thy God, thy native land, "To serve, adore, and save!

"Rouse, Henry! rouse-nor slumber still

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Thy pen, thy tongue may yet fulfil

"A Patriot's noblest part. "Arrest, arrest the felon hand,

"That deals dark murders round the land,

"And mangles Erin's heart!"

He ceas'd; but Henry's eager eye
Still strains the well-known form to spy,
And wildly gazes round;

While yet on Henry's list'ning ear

The charm'd air vibrates soft and clear

With sad and solemn sound.

1798.

EPIGRAM.

FROM morn till eve, throughout the day,
My Chloe was serenely gay:

I romp'd with Phillis-all the while
Nothing disturb'd my Chloe's smile.

The next day came-the morning low'r'd,'
Our schemes were crost, our tempers sour'd:
Still Chloe smil'd-Amaz'd I said,
"Can nothing vex this lovely maid?"
At length a tooth by luckless blow
Was struck from out the pearly row:
Tho' time has long since heal'd the pain,
My Chloe never smil'd again.

2.

VERSES ON A SILK WORM.

Addressed to Mr. Thomson, on his unfinished plan of a Poem, called the Castle of Indolence, in imitation of Spenser. By Thomas Morell, D. D. formerly Fellow of King's College, Cambridge.

As when the silk-worm, erst the tender care
Of Syrian maidens, 'gins for to unfold,
From his sleek sides, which now much sleeker are,
The glossy treasure, and soft threads of gold:
With various turns, and many a winding fold,
He spins his web, and as he spins decays;
Till within circles infinite enroll❜d,

He rests supine, imprison'd in the maze,

The which himself did make, the gath'ring of his days.

So thou, they say, from thy prolific brain,
A Castle hight of Indolence, didst raise;
Where listless sprites withouten care or pain,
In idle pleasaunce, spend their jocund days,
Nor heed rewardful toil, nor seeken praise;
Thither thou didst repair in luckless hour,

And, lulled by thine own enchanting lays,
Didst lie adown, entranced in the bow'r,
The which thyself didst make, the gath'ring of thy
pow'r.

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But Venus, suff'ring not her fav'rite worm,
For aye to sleepen in his silky tomb;
Inspires him to throw off his pristine form,
And the gay features of a fly assume.

When lo! eftsoons from the surrounding gloom
He vigorous breaks forth issuing from the wound
His horny beak had made, and finding room,
On new plum'd wings he flutters all around,
And buzzing speaks his joy in most expressive sound.
So may the God of Science and of Wit,
With pitying eye ken thee, his darling son,
Shake from thy fatty sides the slumb❜rous fit,
(In which, alas! thou art so woe-begone)
And with his pointed arrow goad thee on,
Till thou refeelest life in all thy veins;
And on the wings of Resolution,

Like thine own hero* dight, fliest o'er the plains, Chaunting his peerless praise in never-dying strains.

AN EPIGRAM.

THE LUCKY FALL.

Two wanton Cupids took their stands.
In the large orbs of Lucy's eyes-
A third, with supplicating hands
To gain admission vainly tries.
Fiercely they thrust the rogue away-
When lo! on Lucy's breast he fell;

And nestling there, I heard him say,

"Thanks, friends! THIS suits me quite as well."

BATISTO.

The Knight of Industry, the hero of the poem.

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