I am out of humanity's reach,
Must finish my journey alone,
Never hear the sweet music of speech,
I start at the sound of my own.
The beasts, that roam over the plain,
My form with indifference see;
They are so unacquainted with man,
Their tameness is shocking to me.
Society, friendship, and love,

Divinely bestowed upon man,
O, had I the wings of a dove,

How soon would I taste you again! My sorrows I then might assuage

In the ways of religion and truth, Might learn from the wisdom of age, And be cheered by the sallies of youth.

Religion! what treasure untold

Resides in that heavenly word!
More precious than silver and gold,

Or all that this earth can afford.
But the sound of the church-going bell
These valleys and rocks never heard,
Never sighed at the sound of a knell,

Or smiled when a sabbath appeared.

Ye winds that have made me your sport,
Convey to this desolate shore
Some cordial endearing report

Of a land I shall visit no more.
My friends, do they now and then send
A wish or a thought after me?
O tell me I yet have a friend,

Though a friend I am never to see. How fleet is a glance of the mind! Compared with the speed of its flight, The tempest itself lags behind,

And the swift winged arrows of light. 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 despair.

But the seafowl is gone to her nest,
The beast has laid down in his lair;
Even here is a season of rest,

And I to my cabin repair.
There's mercy in every place,
And mercy, encouraging thought!
Gives even affliction a grace,

And reconciles man to his lot.

Fair Science poured the light of truth,

And Genius shed his rays.

See! with united wonder cried

Th' experienced and the sage,
Ambition in a boy supplied
With all the skill of age!

Discernment, eloquence, and grace,
Proclaim him born to sway
The balance in the highest place,
And bear the palm away.

The praise bestowed was just and wise;
He sprang impetuous forth,
Secure of conquest, where the prize
Attends superior worth.

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

ODE TO PEACE.

COME, peace of mind, delightful guest! Return, and make thy downy nest

Once more in this sad heart: Nor riches I nor power pursue, Nor hold forbidden joys in view; We therefore need not part.

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 sweets that I was wont to share,

The banquet of thy smiles?

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 sequestered shed,

To be a guest with them?

For thee I panted, thee I prized,,
For thee I gladly sacrificed

Whate'er I loved before;
And shall I see thee start away,
And helpless, hopeless, hear thee say—
Farewell! we meet no more?

ON THE

PROMOTION OF EDWARD THURLOW, ESQ.

To the Lord High Chancellorship of England.
ROUND Thurlow's head in carly youth,
And in his sportive days,

HUMAN FRAILTY.

WEAK and irresolute is man;

The purpose of to-day, Woven with pains into his plan, To-morrow rends away.

The bow well bent, and smart the spring,

In vain, recorded in historic page,

Vice seems already slain;

But passion rudely snaps the string,

And it revives again.

Some foe to his upright intent
Finds out his weaker part;
Virtue engages his assent,
But pleasure wins his heart.

'Tis here the folly of the wise

Through all his art we view;

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

Bound on a voyage of awful length,

And dangers little known,
A stranger to superior strength,
Man vainly trusts his own.

But oars alone can ne'er prevail,

To reach the distant coast;

The breath of heaven must swell the sail, Or all the toil is lost.

THE MODERN PATRIOT.

REBELLION is my theme all day;

I only wish 't would come
(As who knows but perhaps it may?)
A little nearer home.

Yon roaring boys, who rave and fight
On t' other side th' Atlantic,

I always held them in the right,

But most so when most frantic.

When lawless mobs insult the court,
That man shall be my toast,
If breaking windows be the sport.
Who bravely breaks the most.
But oh! for him my fancy culls

The choicest flowers she bears,
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, And that a rope must cure them.

A rope! I wish we patriot had

Such strings for all who need 'emWhat! hang a man for going mad! Then farewell British freedom.

ON OBSERVING SOME NAMES OF LITTLE NOTE RE-
CORDED IN THE BIOGRAPHIA BRITANNICA.

OH, fond attempt to give a deathless lot
To names ignoble, born to be forgot!

They court the notice of a future age:
Those twinkling tiny lustres of the land
Drop one by one from Fame's neglecting hand;
Lethean gulfs receive them as they fall,
And dark oblivion soon absorbs them all.

So when a child, as playful children use,
Has burnt to tinder a stale last year's news,
The flame extinct, he views the roving fire-
There goes my lady, and there goes the squire,
There goes the parson, oh illustrious spark!
And there, scarce less illustrious, goes the clerk!

REPORT OF AN ADJUDGED CASE,

NOT TO BE FOUND IN ANY OF THE BOOKS.

BETWEEN Nose and Eyes a strange contest arose, The spectacles set them unhappily wrong; The point in dispute was, as all the world knows, To which the said spectacles ought to belong.

So Tongue was the lawyer, and argued the cause With a great deal of skill, and a wig full of learning;

While chief baron Ear sat to balance the laws, So famed for his talent in nicely discerning.

In behalf of the Nose it will quickly appear,

And your lordship, he said, will undoubtedly find,

That the Nose has had spectacles always to wear, Which amounts to possession time out of mind.

Then holding the spectacles up to the courtYour lordship observes they are made with a straddle

As wide as the ridge of the Nose is; in short,
Designed to sit close to it, just like a saddle.

Again, would your lordship a moment suppose
('Tis a case that has happened, and may be
again)

That the visage or countenance had not a nose, Pray who would, or who could, wear spectacles then?

On the whole it appears, and my argument shows, With a reasoning the court will never condemn, That the spectacles plainly were made for the Nose,

And the Nose was as plainly intended for them. Then shifting his side (as a lawyer knows how,) He pleaded again in behalf of the Eyes; But what were his arguments few people know,

For the court did not think they were equally wise.

So his lordship decreed with a grave solemn tone, Decisive and clear, without one if or butThat, whenever the Nose put his spectacles on, By daylight or candlelight-Eyes should be shut!

ON THE SAME.

WHEN wit and genius meet their doom In all devouring flame,

They tell us of the fate of Rome,

And bid us fear the same.

O'er MURRAY's loss the Muses wept,
They felt the rude alarm,
Yet blest the guardian care that kept
His sacred head from harm.

There Memory, like the bee, that's fed
From Flora's balmy store,

The quintessence of all he read
Had treasured up before.

The lawless herd, with fury blind,

Have done him cruel wrong;

The flowers are gone-but still we find The honey on his tongue.

THE LOVE OF THE WORLD REPROVED;

OR

HYPOCRISY DETECTED.*

THUS says the prophet of the Turk,
Good Mussulman, abstain from pork;
There is a part in every swine
No friend or follower of mine

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.

May taste, what'er his inclination,
On pain of excommunication.
Such Mahomet's mysterious charge,
And thus he left the point at large.
Had he the sinful part expressed,
They might with safety eat the rest;
But for one piece they thought it hard
From the whole hog to be debarred;
And set their wit at work to find
What joint the prophet had in mind.
Much controversy straight arose,.
These choose the back, the belly those;
By some 'tis confidently said

He meant not to forbid the head;
While others at that doctrine rail,
And piously prefer the tail.
Thus, conscience freed from every clog,
Mahometans eat up the hog.

You laugh-'tis well.-The tale applied
May make you laugh on t' other side.
Renounce the world-the preacher cries.
We do a multitude replies.
While one as innocent regards
A snug and friendly game at cards,
And one, whatever you may say,
Can see no evil in a play;

Some love a concert, or a race;
And others shooting, and the chase.
Reviled and loved, renounced and followed,
Thus, bit by bit, the world is swallowed;
Each thinks his neighbour makes too free,
Yet likes a slice as well as he;
With sophistry their sauce they sweeten,
Till quite from tail to snout 'tis eaten.

ON THE DEATH

OF

MRS. (NOW LADY) THROCKMORTON'S BULFINCH.
Ye nymphs! if e'er your eyes were red
With tears o'er hapless favourites shed,
O share Maria's grief!
Her favourite, even in his cage,
(What will not hunger's cruel rage?)
Assassined by a thief.

Where Rhenus strays his vines among,
The egg was laid from which he sprung;
And, though by nature mute,
Or only with a whistle blest,
Well-taught he all the sounds expressed
Of flagelet or flute.

The honours of his ebon poll
Were brighter than the sleekest mole;
His bosom of the hue

With which Aurora decks the skies,
When piping winds shall soon arise,
To sweep away the dew.

But oh! if fickle and unchaste,
(Forgive a transient thought)
Thou couldst become unkind at last,
And scorn thy present lot.

No need of lightnings from on high,
Or kites with cruel beak;
Denied the endearments of thine eye,
This widowed heart would break.

Thus sang the sweet sequestered bird,
Soft as the passing wind;
And I recorded what I heard,
A lesson for mankind.

A COMPARISON.

THE lapse of time and rivers is the same,
Both speed their journey with a restless stream;
The silent pace, with which they steal away,
No wealth can bribe, no prayers persuade to stay;
Alike irrevocable both when past,

And a wide ocean swallows both at last.
Though each resemble each in every part,
A difference strikes at length the musing heart;
Streams never flow in vain where streams abound,
How laughs the land with various plenty crowned!
But time, that should enrich the nobler mind,
Neglected leaves a dreary waste behind.

A FABLE.

A RAVEN, while with glossy breast
Her new-laid eggs she fondly pressed,
And on her wickerwork high mounted,
Her chickens prematurely counted.
(A fault philosophers might blame.
If quite exempted from the same,)
Enjoyed at ease the genial day;
'Twas April, as the bumpkins say,
The legislature called it May.
But suddenly a wind as high
As ever swept a winter sky,
Shook the young leaves about her ears,
And filled her with a thousand fears,
Lest the rude blast should snap the bough,
And spread her golden hopes below.
But just at eve the blowing weather
And all her fears were hushed together;
And now, quoth poor unthinking Ralph,
'Tis over and the brood is safe;
(For ravens, though as birds of omen
They teach both conjurers and old women,
To tell us what is to befall,
Can't prophesy themselves at all.)

The morning came, when neighbour Hodge,
Who long had marked her airy lodge,
And destined all the treasure there
A gift to his expecting fair,
Climbed like a squirrel to his dray,
And bore the worthless prize away.

MORAL.

'Tis Providence alone secures
In every change both mine and yours:
Safety consists not in escape
From dangers of a frightful shape;
An earthquake may be bid to spare
The man, that's strangled by a hair.
Fate steals along with silent tread,
Found oftenest in what least we dread;
Frowns in the storm with angry brow,
But in the sunshine strikes the blow.

ANOTHER..

ADDRESSED TO A YOUNG LADY.

SWEET stream, that winds through yonder glade,
Apt emblem of a virtuous maid-
Silent and chaste she steals along,
Far from the world's gay busy throng;
With gentle yet prevailing force,
Intent upon her destined course;.
Graceful and useful all she does,
Blessing and blest where'er she goes:
Pure bosomed as that watery glass,
And heaven reflected in her face.

THE POET'S NEW-YEAR'S GIFT. TO MRS. (NOW LADY) THROCKMORTON. MARIA! I have every good

For thee wished many a time, Both sad and in a cheerful mood, But never yet in rhyme.

To wish thee fairer is no need,

More prudent or more sprightly,
Or more ingenious, or more freed
From temper-flaws unsightly.

What favour then not yet possessed,
Can I for thee require,

In wedded love already blest,

To thy whole heart's desire?

None here is happy but in part;
Full bliss is bliss divine;
There dwells some wish in every heart,
And doubtless one in thine.

That wish, on some fair future day,
Which Fate shall brightly gild,
('Tis blameless, be it what it may,)
I wish it all fulfilled.