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On earth, in ocean, and in air,

Love is the fov'reign blifs, the univerfal prayer.

'Tis love fuftains the starry choir,

Love is the elemental fire;

Ah! naught in thy mortality,

Nor ev'n in our eternity,

Like love can charm, like love can bless,

The fun and foul of happiness;

Love is to ev'ry Mufe allied,

Touches each tuneful chord, and spreads the chorus wide.

'Tis ours to waft the lover's fighs,

Swift to the nymph for whom they rife;

And gently as we strike the string,
Convey the nymph's on rofy wing.
Abfence, tho' it wounds, endears,
Soft its forrows, fweet its tears;

Pains that please, and joys that weep,

Trickle like healing balm, and o'er the bofom creep.

Love and Sorrow, twins, were born

On a fhining show'ry morn,

'Twas in prime of April weather,
When it thone and rain'd together;
He who never Sorrow knew,

Never felt affections true;

Never felt true paffion's power,

Love's fun and dew combine, to nurse the tender flow'r.

ODE to PETER PINDA R.

[From PETER PINDAR's Lyric Odes, for the Year 1785.]

A

Thoufand frogs, upon a fummer's day,
Were fporting 'midst the funny ray,

In a large pool, reflecting every face;-
They fhow'd their gold-lac'd cloaths with pride,
In harmless fallies, frequent vied,

And gambol'd through the water with a grace.

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It happen'd that a band of boys,
Obfervant of their harmless joys,
Thoughtlefs, refolv'd to spoil their happy fport;
One frenzy feiz'd both great and small,
On the poor frogs the rogues began to fall,
Meaning to fplafh them, not to do them hurt.

As Milton quaintly fings, the tones 'gan pour,'
Indeed, an Otaheite show'r!

The confequence was dreadful, let me tell ye;

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One's

One's eye was beat out of his head,-
This limp'd away, that lay for dead,-
Here mourn'd a broken back, and there a belly.
Amongst the fmitten, it was found
Their beauteous queen receiv'd a wound;
The blow gave ev'ry heart a figh,
And drew a tear from ev'ry eye :-

At length king Croak got up, and thus begun-
"My lads, you think this very pretty fun!

"Your pebbles round us fly as thick as hops,-
Have warmly complimented all our chops;-
To you, I guess that thefe are pleasant stones!
And fo they might be to us frogs,

You damn'd, young, good-for-nothing dogs!
But that they are fo hard,-they break our bones."
Peter! thou mark'it the meaning of this fable-
So put thy Pegasus into the stable;
Nor wanton, thus with cruel pride,
Mad, Jehu-like, o'er harmless people ride.

To drop the metaphor-the Fair *,
Whose works thy Mufe forbore to spare,
Is bleft with talents Envy must approve;

And didst thou know her heart, thou'dst say-
"Perdition catch the idle lay!"

Then ftrike thy lyre to Innocence and Love.
"Poh! poh! cry'd Satire, with a smile,
"Where is the glorious freedom of our ifle,
If not permitted to call names?"
Methought the argument had weight-
Was logical, conclufive, neat ;-
So once more forth, volcanic Peter flames!

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MOMBAZE.

Not the rich produce of Angola's fhore,
Not all the mifer's heap'd and glittering ftore,
Not all that pride would grafp, or pomp display,
Should tempt this hand the wretched to betray.
No traitors dwell within this bleft domain,
The friends of peace we live, a guileless train.
Grief dims thy eye, or gladly would't thou fee
Thy lov'd Mombaze yet furvives in me.
Can't thou forget? I taught thy youth to dare
The fylvan herd, and wage the desp'rate war;
Can't thou forget? One common lot we drew,
With hee inchain'd, a captive's fate I knew:
Ditrust me not, but unreferv'd disclose
The anxious tale that in thy bofom glows;
To part our griefs is oft to mitigate,
And focial forrows blunt the darts of fate.

ZAMBOIA.

Dear to my fight that form, and doubly dear
Thy well-known accents meet Zamboia's ear.
Oh! had I died, and left the name of flave
Deep, deep entomb'd within an early grave!
Oh had I died, e'er ruthless fates conftrain,
With thee enthrall'd, to cross the western main!
Oh! to have met a glorious death in arms,
And ne'er beheld Melinda's fatal charms!
Time would be fhort, and memory would fail,
To dwell diftinctly on the various tale.-
Tedious to tell what treach'rous arts were try'd,
To footh the fmart of fill revolting pride.
I liv'd, and lov'd-Then kifs'd the fatal chain;
No joy but one to cheer a life of pain.-
Yet witness bear, thou dear departed ghoft,
That lonely rov't thy Gambia's facred coaft!
How fweet the toil that met the morning's ray,
How light the labour that o'er-lafted day!
The reed-built hovel, and the fcanty fare,
Imperial blifs could give, Melinda there!
Soft was my pillow, on thy gentle breast,
When o'er prefs'd Nature droop'd in want of rest!
And if a rebel tear difgrac'd my eye,

Thine was the tear, and thine the bursting figh.
Blifs I could boaft, unenvied had it pass'd,
But blifs too great for hapless flaves to last.

A wretch, who banish'd from his native clime,
Defil'd with many a black and monstrous crime,
Prefided o'er us, and with iron hand
Held ravage fway o'er all the fervile band,

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Befides this great advantage-if in debt,
You'll have with creditors no tête-à-tête :

So leave the bull-dog bailiffs all behind;
Who hunt you, with what nose they may,
Must hunt for needles in a stack of hay.

The SOUTH SEA ISLANDERS COMPASSIONATED, but chiefly OMAI.

[From the "Task," in the Second Volume of Mr. CowPER's Poems.] V'N the favor'd ifles

E

So lately found, although the constant fun
Cheer all their feasons with a grateful smile,
Can boast but little virtue; and inert
Through plenty, lofe in morals what they gain
In manners, victims of luxurious cafe.
These therefore I can pity, placed remote
From all that science traces, art invents,
Or inspiration teaches; and inclosed
In boundlefs oceans never to be pass'd
By navigators uninformed as they,

Or plough'd perhaps by British bark again.
But far beyond the rest, and with most cause,
Thee, gentle favage*, whom no love of thee
Or thine, but curiofity perhaps,

Or elfe vain-glory, prompted us to draw
Forth from thy native bow'rs, to fhow thee here
With what fuperior skill we can abuse
The gifts of Providence, and fquander life.
The dream is past. And thou hast found again
Thy cocoas and bananas, palms and yams,
And homestall thatch'd with leaves. But haft thou found
Their former charms? And having seen our state,
Our palaces, our ladies, and our pomp
Of equipage, our gardens, and our sports,
And heard our mufic; are thy fimple friends,
Thy fimple fare, and all thy plain delights,
As dear to thee as once? And have thy joys
Loft nothing by comparison with ours?"
Rude as thou art (for we return'd thee rude
And ignorant, except of outward show)
I cannot think thee yet so dull of heart
And spiritless, as never to regret

Sweets tafted here, and left as foon as known.
Methinks I see thee ftraying on the beach,
And asking of the furge that bathes thy foot,

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From guiltless joys, that blefs'd our native foil,
Dragg'd to a life of mifery and toil;
Would you yet take the little God has giv'n,
And intercept the gracious dews of Heav'n!
Your rage for blood, wild as your thirst of gain,
Shall no refpects, not truths divine, restrain!
The eternal fabric can a name undo?
Is rape and murder fanctified in you?
And us, what laws, as impious as fevere,
Forbid the common rights of man to share?
Didst thou, creative Power! thy views confine?
For one proud race the fpacious earth defign?
For them alone does plenty deck the vale,
Bluth in the fruit, and tinge the fcented gale?
For them the feafons all their fweets unfold?
Blooms the fresh rofe, and fhines the waving gold?
O no, all bounteous is thy equal hand,
And thy fix'd laws irrevocable stand!
Haplefs Zamboia! had it been thy fate
With me to share my more propitious state;
Thy foul had breath'd no impious wifh to die,
Nor the big tear had trembled in thine eye.
Disjoin'd from thee, I too to flavery went;
But Heaven a father, not a master, lent.-
He feems, as Virtue's felf in mortal guife,
Tho' wealthy, fimple, and tho' modeft, wife.
Bleft be the hand that life and freedom gave!
That pow'r can boast, exerted but to fave!
Bleft the fage tongue, that stor'd the vacant mind!
The manners foften'd, and the heart refin'd!
That still to Heaven's unerring dictates true,
Eternal truth unfolded to our view!
But come! thy faint and weary limbs repofe,
Forgetful of thy fears, thy griefs compofe;
By morning's dawn with earneft foot I speed,
Nor fleep thefe eyes till I behold thee freed.
Some wealth I have, and did I prize it more,
Well fpared for this I deem the facred store.

So talk'd thefe friends, and to the cottage hafte;
While fad Zamboia his purfuers trae'd;
The ruffian band arreft the hapless fwain,
And pray'rs and tears and promises are vain;
Their vengeful fervour, no-not gifts abate;

But bound in chains, they drag him to his fate *.

A higher reward is generally offered for the bead of a fugitive Negro, than for bringing him alive.

EFFUSIONS

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