Left in a Chaise by a Candidate on his Canvass.
How happy is the Peer's unchanging lot,
Forgetting voters, and by votes forgot;
For him no more the well-paid sexton rings,
For him no more the venal poet sings;
Peers, ravish'd with the whistling of a name,
Leave wretched commoners to toil for fame;
The golden key awaits their ready hand,
The blushing ribbon, and the milk-white wand.
Far other thoughts my restless soul employ,
Far humbler visions, and more vulgar joy;
Eight station'd coursers bear me from afar,
Twelve different steeds successive whirl my car,
From town to town, from house to house I fly,
Yet "where's our candidate?" the voters cry-
So from each corner of some festive hall,
At merry Christmas eager children call;
Still in the middle stands the fool confest,
By all invited, and of all the jest-
What strange vicissitudes of woe and bliss!
Each toothless wife, each tender maid I kiss ;
Now with loud curses badger'd from the door,
Now for ever! boys, and butchers roar;
Alas! in vain, for ****
Loud shakes his purse in every voter's ears;
* sneaks forth with promises and lies,
Points to the church, the army, and excise-
Can Poverty from gold withdraw his hand?
A gauger's rod what voter can withstand ?
Retire! presumptuous man! in time retire!
Say, if thou can'st, to what thou would'st aspire
With friendship, love, and philosophic ease,
Form'd to be pleas'd, and wishing still to please;
Say, could'st thou add one real pleasure more,
To all the blessings thou enjoy'dst before?
Could'st thou retard, by all that man can say,
Thy country's ruin for a single day?
Retire! presumptuous man! in time retire!
Leave knaves to plunder, and let fools admire.
ON A LATE EXAMINATION OF WITNESSES IN A CERTAIN ASSEMBLY.
BY WILLIAM CAREY, ESQ.
How just are they, how circumspect and wise,
Who doubt their ears, and disbelieve their eyes!
Who burning, shrinking in the noon-tide ray,
Light up their rush-lights and deny the day!
But Fool and Sage in this great truth agree,
None are so blind as those who will not see ;
And God, we read in Rome's indignant strains,
First blinds the men whose ruin he ordains,
BY THE REV. THOMAS MAURICE.
WHEN kingdoms, long to factious rage a prey,
Reluctant bend, at length, to tyrant sway,
To freedom dear! amid the dastard train
That crouch around, a GLORIOUS FEW remain,
A patriot band! beyond all titles GREAT,
Of soul superior to the storms of fate,
Whose love of cherish'd arts, whose worth sublime
Endear them to the good of every clime ;
These, 'mid their country's wreck, the tyrant's frown,
Uphold the trophies of her fair renown *.
Such was His honest fame, whose passing bier
From many a Briton claims the grateful tear;
Such was HIS SOUL, by sterling virtue fired,
Nor fell BATAVIA till her HOPE expired.
Although Mr. HOPE was not a native of Holland, yet by consanguinity and long residence in that country, as well as by the extent of his commercial transactions, carried on there, he may justly be considered as having for it the interest and affection of a native.
Swell high the solemn dirge-and, round his tomb, Bid the rich amaranth immortal bloom
There let the sister Arts afflicted bend,
And every Muse bewail her buried friend;
While Genius, kindling with its noblest flame,
In deathless characters inscribes his name.
Pure in thy principles, lamented Shade,
Thy youth, thy age, unblemish'd faith display'd;
Stern, rigid Honour thy unerring guide,
Thy radiant POLE-STAR, through life's stormy tide;
Whether 'midst crowded marts caress'd, admired,
Or in the bowers of thy loved Sheen retired;
Those bowers, where TEMPLE once delighted stray'd,
With wisdom musing in the hallow'd* shade.
Sacred to thee was each dear kindred tie,
With fond fraternal love thy heart beat high;
And where, by friendship's chain thy soul was bound
That friendship firm as adamant was found †.
Nor coldly was thy partial zeal return'd,
With warm affection friends and kindred burn'd;
Affection genuine as the tears that fell
When thy torn bosom sigh'd the last farewell.
In manners polish'd, affable, and kind,
Sound in thy judgment, in thy taste refin'd;
Hallow'd by its remains of ancient regal and monastic grandeur. In those shades the great Sir William Temple, long the British Ambassador in Holland, composed the greater part of his political writings.
Mr. WILLIAMS HOPE, the Author trusts, will not be ofended at his mentioning himself as an instance of the inviolable attachment of the late Mr. Hope to those whom he esteemed for their superior virtues and abilities. A similar instance of disinterested, and almost boundless, generosity, has scarcely ever occurred in the annals of modern times.
In the great school of life and business taught,
The wise, the good, the great thy converse sought;
Courted, rever'd by all; by all beloved
Who sterling sense admired, or worth approved.
Though train'd to commerce, from thy earliest day,
And fortune smiled with full meridian ray;
With honest love of fame and science fraught,
Far above commerce soared thy liberal thought.
Unbounded wealth inspir'd thy generous mind
To heap unbounded blessings on mankind;
'Twas thine through many a dark revolving year,
From misery's eye to wipe the streaming tear;
To soothe the widow's plaint, the orphan's sighs,
Whose vows to heav'n in grateful transport rise;
And where, in bonds, the pining debtor lay,
To burst the dungeon gloom, and pour the day.
Dear to thy heart, and welcome to thy board,
The virtuous ne'er in vain thy aid implored;
Was toiling Probity by want oppress'd?
Thy smile consoled him, and thy bounty bless'd.
Did heav'n-born Talent droop? If aim'd aright,
Thy potent arm sustain'd its daring flight:
Nor mean the boon thy liberal hand bestow'd
Where Honour fired the breast, and Genius glow'd.
Warm'd by thy plaudits, by that bounty cheer'd,
His drooping head the friendless artist rear'd;
With matchless splendour through thy dome display'd,
He mark'd the radiant tints that never fade;
Whatever bold in style, or warm in thought,
The masters of the glowing pencil taught.
His fancy kindles, by the view inspired,
His faculties expand, his soul is fired;
With nobler force he draws th' expressive lines,
And a new RAPHAEL on the canvas shines,
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