ADDRESSED TO

R. A. NEVILLE, ESQUIRE,

NOW LORD BRAYBROOKE.

WHEN clouds obscure the moon's pale ray,

And stars a feeble light display;

And the loud winds, that round him roar,
Threaten to dash his bark on shore;

The Nabob prays the Gods for ease,

And mourns the hour he cross'd the seas.
The Indians, who their lakes have past,
To fight for General Bombast; *

*

With tomahawks, to strike "terrorem,"
And knives, for scalping, all before 'em;

ODE XVI. LIB. 2.

OTIUM Divos rogat in patenti

Prensus Ægæo, simul atra nubes
Condidit Lunam, neque certa fulgent
Sidera nautis :

*The late Gen. B. whom it was the fashion to extol, before his disasters, as a great writer, as well as a great commander.

Soon find that ease is more inviting,
And grow completely sick of fighting,
In spite of all the General's writing!

All wish the sweets of ease to shareEase is the universal prayer:

Yet, though to give it all its due,

It loves, dear DICK, to live with you;
To Lords and Bishops it is cold,

And is not to be bought for gold.

For 'tis not wealth, nor pomp, nor pow'r,
The rising sigh that can suppress,

Nor to the wounded heart restore

The healing balm of happiness: Nor can the centinels, who guard Each entrance to the palace-yard,

Otium bello furiosa Thrace,

Otium Medi pharetra decori,

Grosphe, non gemmis, neque purpura ve

nale, nec auro.

Non enim gazæ, neque consularis
Summovet lictor miseros tumultus

Mentis, et curas laqueata circum
Tecta volantes.

}

Exclude, with all their watchful care, The anguish, that torments despair.

Shunning St. James's royal dome, Contentment seeks his humbler home, Who sees his friends, but not in state, And pays no duty on his plate:

He, when the social supper's o'er,
Ne'er locks at night his chamber-door,
No sordid wish, no terror knows,
But sleeps with undisturb'd repose.

Ah! why, since life is but a span, Will foolish mortals hourly plan Extensive schemes, that would engage The labours of a Patriarch's age? Or why to distant countries run, Illumin'd by another sun?

Vivitur parvo benè, cui paternum
Splendet in mensa tenui salinum,
Nec leves somnos timor aut Cupido
Sordidus aufert.

Quid brevi fortes jaculamur ævo
Multa? Quid terras alio calentes

Could KINGSTON, whose unsettled mind
Urg'd her in foreign climes to roam,
In Italy that comfort find,

Which mock'd her fruitless search at home?

In vain she climbs each Alpine hill—
Self haunts her, self torments her still!

On wings that far outstrip the wind, Care flies, and leaves each cloud behind; Now climbs the copper'd vessel's side, And takes her melancholy stand; While Spain's insulting scoffs deride

The injur'd HOSIER's unnerv'd hand. And now she mounts with restless force, Behind th' affrighted General's horse; And petrifies, on M's plain,

The trembling spirit of G

Sole mutamus? Patriæ quis exul
Se quoque fugit?

Scandit æratas vitiosa naves

Cura: nec turmas equitum relinquit,

Ocyor cervis, et agente nimbos

Ocyor Euro.

E.

He who enjoys the present hour,
But little leaves in fortune's pow'r ;
Nor yet anticipates with sorrow,
The misery that may come to-morrów;
And if it come, with firm disdain,
Smiles calmly mid severest pain.

To man 'twas never given to know
Long years of bliss, unmix'd with woe:
WOLFE-great in arms, his country's pride-
In manhood's prime, in battle died!
And though the dark decrees of Fate

TO MARLBOROUGH gave a lengthen'd date,
He too had better far been slain,
Than live to be a child again!

Even I, perhaps, though Heav'n forfend

That I should lose so lov'd a friend!

Lætus in præsens animus, quod ultra est,

Oderit curare; et amara lento

Temperet risu. Nihil est ab omni
Parte beatum.

Abstulit clarum cita mors Achillem:

Longa Tithonum minuit senectus: