VI.
How feet is a glance of the mind!

Compared with the speed of its fight, 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.

VII.
But the sea-fowl is gone to her neft,

The beast is laid down in his lair;
Even here is a season of reft,

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.

ON THE PROMOTION OF

EDWARD THURLOW, ESQ.

TO THE LORD HIGH CHANCELLORSHIP OF

ENGLAND

I.
ROUND Thurlow's head in early youth,

And in his sportive days,
Fair science poured the light of truth,
And genius shed his rays.

II.
See! with united wonder cried

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

III.
Discernment, eloquence, and grace

Prociaim him born to sway The balance in the highest place,

And bear the palm away,

IV.

The praise bestowed was just and wise ;

He sprang impetuous forth
Secure of conqueft, where the prize
Attends superior worth.

V.
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.

I. COME, peace of mind, delightful gueft! Return and make thy downy neft

Once more in this fad heart : Nor riches I nor power pursue, Nor hold forbidden joys in view;

We therefore need not part.

11. 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 ?

III.
The great, the gay, shall they partake
The heaven that thou alone canft make ?

And wilt thou quit the stream,
That murmurs through the dewy mead,
The grove and the sequeftered med,
To be a guest with them?

IV.
For thee I panted, thee I prized,
For thee I gladly facrificed

Whatever I loved before;
And shall I see thee start away,
And helpless, hopeless, hear thee say

Farewell! we meet no more?

HUMAN FR AILTY.

I. Weak and irrefolute is man;

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

II.
The bow well bent, and smart the spring,

Vice seems already Nain;
But passion rudely snaps the string,
And it revives again.

III.
Some foe to his upright intent

Finds out his weaker part; Virtue engages his affent,

But pleasure wins his heart.

IV.

'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.

M)