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Yet ev'n those bones from insult to protect
Their name, their years, spelt by the unletter'd Muse,
For who to dumb Forgetfulness a prey,
On some fond breast the parting foul relies,
For thee, who mindful of th' unhonour'd Dead
Haply some hoary-headed (wain may say,
Brushing with hasty steps the dews away
Mutt'ring his wayward fancies he would rove; • Now drooping, woeful wan, like one forlorn, • Or craz’d with care, or cross’d in hopeless love.
« One morn I miss'd him on the custom'd hill,
Along the heath and near his fav’rite tree :
up the Lawn, nor at the wood was he ;
« The next with dirges due in fad array, • Slow through the church-way path we saw him born, • Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay, • Grav'd on the stone beneath yon aged thorn.'
HERE refts his head upon the lap of Earth,
A Youth to Fortune and to fame unknown ; Fair Science frown'd not on his humble birth, And Melancholy mark*d him for her own.
Large was his bounty, and his foul sincere,
No farther feek his merits to disclose,
ORROWING, the Nine beneath yon blasted yew
Shed the bright drops of Pity's holy dew!
Ye, who ere while for Cook's illustrious brow Pluck'd the green laurel, and the oaken bough, Hung the gay garlands on the trophied oars, And
pour d his fame along a thousand shores, Strike the slow death-bell! weave the facred verse, And Atrew the cypress o'er his honor'd hearse ;
In fad proceflion wander round the shrine,
Say first, what Pow'r inspir'd his dauntless breast With scorn of danger and inglorious rest, To quit imperial London's gorgeous plains, Where, robid in thousand tints, bright Pleasure reigns ; In cups of summer-ice her néctar pours, And twines, 'mid wintry snows, her roseate bow'rs? Where Beauty moves with undulating grace, Calls the sweet blush to wanton o'er her face, On each fond Youth her soft artillery tries, Aims her light smile, and rolls her frolic eyes?
What Pow'r inspir'd his dauntless breast to brave The scorch's Equator, and th' Antarctic wave ? Climes, where fierce suns in cloudless ardors shine, And pour the dazzling deluge round the Line ; The realms of frost, where icy mountains risc, 'Mid the pale summer of the polar fkies ?It was HUMANITY!-on coasts unknown, The shiv'ring natives of the frozen zone, And the swart Indian, as he faintly ttrays " Where Cancer reddens in the folar blaze." She bade him seek ; awon each inclement shore Plant the rich feeds of her exhaustless store ; Unite the favage hearts, and hoftile hands, In the firm compact of her gentle bands ; Strew her soft comforts o'er the barren plain, Sing her sweet lays, and confecrate her fane,
IT WAS HUMANITY!-O Nymph divine ! I see thy light step print the burning Line ! There thy bright eye the dubious pilot guides, The faint oar Itruggling with the scalding tides.On as thou lead'ft the bold, the glorious prow, Mild, and more mild, the doping fun-beams glow; Now weak and pale the leffen'd lustres play, As round th' horizon rolls the timid day i