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TIere rests his head upon the lap of earth, A you li to Fortune and to Fame unknown : Fhir Science froin'd not on his humble birth, And Melancholy mark'd him for her own. Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere, Heuv'n did a recompense ns largely send ;

gave to mis’ry (all he had) a tear: He gain'd from Heav'n ('ıwas all he wish'd)-a friend.


No further seek hisom rits to disclose,
Or draw his frailties from their dread ubodke;

There they alike in trembling hope repose)
The boson of his Father and his God.


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MARK where its simple front yan mansion rears,

nursery of nien for future years!
Here callow chiefs and embryo statesmen lie,
And unfledg'd poets short excursions try:
While Mersey's gentle current, which loo long
By fame neglected, and unknown to song,
Between his rushy banks (no poet's theme)
Had crept inglorious, like a vulgar stream,
Reflects th' ascending seats with conscious pride,
And dares to emulate a classic-tide.
Sofi nrusic breathes along each op'ning shade,
And sooths the dashing of his rough cascade.
With mystic lines: his sands are figur'l o'ef,
And circles trac'd upon the letter'd shore.
Beneath his willows rove th' inquiring youth,
And court the fair majestic forın of truth.

Here Nature opens all her secre springs,
And heav’n-born Science plum's her eagle-wings;
Too long had bigot Rage, with malice swellid,

Crush'd her strong pinions, an her fight with held;
Too long to check her arılent progress strove:
So writhes the serpent round the bird of Jove,
Hangs on her 'flight, restrains her tow'ring wing,
Twists its dark földs, and points its venor'd sting.
Yet still (if auglit aright the Muse divine)
Her rising pride shall mock the vain design;
On sounding pinions yet aloft shall soar,
And thro' the azure deep untrarell'd paths explore,
Where Science smiles, the Muses join the train ;
And gentlest arts and purest manners reign.

Ye generous youth who love the studious shade, How rich a field is to your hopes display'd! Knowledge to you unlocks the classic page, And virtue blossoms for a better age. Oh golden days! oh bright unvalued hours ! What bliss (did ye but know that bliss) were yours! With richest stores your glowing bosonis fraught, Perception quick, and luxury of thought;The high designs that heave the labouring soal, Panting for fame, impatient of control; And fond enthusiastic thought, that feeds On pictur'd tales of vast heroic deeds; And quick affections, kindling into flame At virtue's, or their country's honour'd name : And spirits light to ev'ry joy in tune; And friendship, ardent as a summer's noon; And generous scorn of vice's venal tribe; And proud disdain of interest's sordid bribe; And conscious honour's quick instinctive sense! And siniles unforc’d; and easy confidence ; And vivid fancy; and clear simple truth; And all the mental bloom of vernal youth.

How brighit the scene 10 fancy's eye appears, Through the long perspective of distant years, When ibis, ibis little group

their country

calls. From academic shades and learned halls,

To fix her laws, her spirit te sustain,
And light up glory through her wide domain!
Their various tastes in different arts display'd,
Like temper'd harmony of tight and shade,
With friendly union in one mass shall blend,
And this adorn the state, and that defend.
These the sequester'd shade shall cheaply please,
Wish learned labour, and inglorious ease:
While those, impell’d by some resistless force,
D'er seas and rocks shall urge their vent'rous course;
Rich fruits, matur'd by glowing suns behold,
And China's groves of vegetable gold;
From ev'ry land the various harvest spoil,
And bear ihe tribute to their native soil:
But tell each land (while ev'ry toil they share,
Firm to sustain, and resolute to dare)
MAN is the nobler growth our realms supply,
And SOULS are ripen'd in our northern sky,

Some pensive creep along the shelly shore,
Unfold ihe silky texture of a flower,
With sharpen'd eyes inspect an hornet's sting,
And all the wonders of an insect's wing.
Some trace with curious search the hidden cause
Of Nature's changes, and her various laws;
Untwist her beauteous web, disrobe her charms,
And hunt her to her elemental forms;

prove what hidden powers in herbs are found
To quench disease, and cool the burning wound;
With cordial drop's the fainting head sustain,
Call back the flitting sul, and still the throbs of pain.

The patriot passion this shall strongly feel,
Ardent, and glowing with unrlaunted zeal;
With lips of fire shall plead his country's cause,
And vindicate the majes:y of laws.
This, cloth'd with Britain's thunder, spread alarms
Through the wide earih, and shake the pole with arms.
That, to the sounding lyre, his deeds rehearse,
Enshrine his name in some immortal verse;
To long posteriiy bis praise consigil,
And pay a life of hardships by a line.


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While others, consecrate to higher aims,
Whose hallow'd bosoms glow with purer flames,
Love in their heari, persuasion on their tongue,
With words of peace shall charm the list ning throng,
Draw the dread veil that wraps th' eternal throne,
And launch our souls into the bright unknown.




O THOU, the Nymph with placid eye!
O seldom found, yet ever nigh!

Receive my temperate yow:
Not all the storms that shake the pole
Can t'er disturb thy halcyon soul,

And smooth unalter'd brow.

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O come, in simplest vest array'd,
With all thy sober cheer display'd,

To bless niy longing sight;
Thy mien compos'd, thy even pace,
Thy meek regard, thy matron grace,

And chaste subdu'd deligiit.

No more by varying passions beat,
O gently guide my pilgrim feet

To find thy hermit cell;
Where in some pure and equal sky,
Beneath thy soft indulgent eye

The vuodest virtues dwell.

Simplicity in attic vest,
And Innocence with candid breast,

And clear undaunted eye;
And Hope, who points to distant years,
Fair op'ning through this vale of tears,

A vista to the sky.

There Health, through whose calm bosom glide
The temperate joys in even tide,

That rarely ebb or flow;
And Patience there, thy sister meek,
Presents her mild, unvarying cheek

To meet the offer'a blow.

Her influence taught the Phrygian sage
A tyrant master's wanton rage

With settled smiles to meet;
Inurd to toil and bitter bread,
He bow'd his meek submitted head,

And kiss'd thy sainted feet.

But thou, oh Nymph, retird and coy!
In what brown hamilet dost thou joy

To tell thy tender tale?
The lowliest children of the ground,
Moss-rose and violet blossom round,

And lily of the vale.

say what soft propitious hour I best may choose to hail thy pow'r,

And court thy gentle sway? When Autumn, friendly to the Muse, Sliall thy own modest tints diffuse,

And shed thy milder day?

When Eve, her dewy star beneath,
Thy balmy spirit loves to breathe,

And ev'ry storm is laid;
If such an hour was e'er thy choice,
Oft let me hear thy soothing voice
Low whisp’ring through the shade.


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