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As similarity of mind,
Or something not to be defined,

First fixes our attention;
So manners decent and polite,
The same we practised at first sight,

Must save it from declension. Some act upon this prudent plan, • Say little, and hear all you can.'

Safe policy, but hateful-
So barren sands imbibe the shower,
But render neither fruit nor

Unpleasant and ungrateful.
The man I trust, if shy to me,
Shall find me as reserved as he;

No subterfuge or pleading
Shall win my confidence again ;
I will by no means entertain

A spy on my proceeding.
These samples for alas ! at last
These are but samples, and a taste

Of evils yet unmention'd-
May prove the task a task indeed,
In which 'tis much if we succeed,

However well-intention'd.
Pursue the search, and you will find
Good sense and kuowledge of mankind

To be at least expedient;
And, after summing all the rest,
Religion ruling in the breast

A principal ingredient.
The poblest Friendship ever shown
The Saviour's history makes known,

Though some have turn'd and turn'd it;
And, whether being crazed or blind,
Or seeking with a biass'd mind,

Have not, it seems, discern'd it.

O Friendship, if my soul forego
Thy dear delights while here below;

To mortify and grieve me,
May I myself at last appear
Unworthy, base, and insincere,

Or may my friend deceive me!

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On a mischievous Bull, which the Owner

of him sold at the Author's instance.

GO-Thou art all unfit to share

The pleasures of this place
With such as its old tenants are,

Creatures of gentler race.
The squirrel here his hoard provides,

Aware of wintry storms,
And woodpeckers explore the sides

Of rugged oaks for worms.
The sheep here smoothes the knotted thorn

With frictions of her fleece;
And here I wander eve and morn,

Like her, a friend to peace.

Ah!- 1 could pity thee exiled

From this secure retreat-
I would not lose it to be styled

The happiest of the great.
Bat thou canst taste no calm delight;

Thy pleasure is to show
Thy magnanimity in fight,

Thy prowess therefore go-
I care not whether east or north,

So I no more may find thee;
The angry Muse thus sings thee forth,

And claps the gate behind thee.

ANNUS MEMORABILIS, 1789.

Written in Commemoration of his Majesty's

happy Recovery.

I RANSACK'D, for a theme of song,
Much ancient chronicle, and long;
I read of bright embattled fields,
Of trophied helmets, spears, and shields,
Of chiefs, whose single arm could boast
Prowess to dissipate a host;
Through tomes of fable and of dream
I sought an eligible theme,
But none I found, or found them shared
Already by some happier bard.

To modern times, with Truth to guide
My busy search, I next applied ;
Here cities won, and fleets dispersed,
Urged loud a claim to be rehearsed,
Deeds of upperishing renown,
Our fathers' triumphis and our own.

Thus, as the bee, from bank to bower,
Assiduous sips at every flower,
But rests on none, till that be found,
Where most nectareous sweets abound,
So I, from theme to theme display'd
lo many a page historic stray'd,
Siege after siege, fight after fight,
Contemplating with small delight,
(For feats of sanguinary hue
Not always glitter in my view ;)
Till, settling on the current year,
I found the far-sought treasure near.

A theme for poetry divine,
A theme to ennoble even mine,
In memorable eighty-nine.

The spring of eighty-nine shall be
An æra cherish'd long by me,
Which joyful I will oft record,
And thankful at my frugal board;
For then the clouds of eighty-eight,
That threaten'd England's trembling state
With loss of what she least could spare,
Her sovereign's tutelary care,
One breath of Heaven, that cried-Restore !
Chased, never to assemble more:
And for the richest crown on Earth,
If valued by its wearer's worth,
The symbol of a righteous reign
Sat fast on George's brows again.

Then peace and joy again possess'd
Our Queen's long-agitated breast;
Such joy and peace as can be known
By sufferers like herself alone,
Who losing, or supposing lost,
The good on Earth they valued most,
For that dear sorrow's sake forego
All hope of happioess below,
Then suddenly regain the prize,
And flash thanksgivings to the skies!

O Queen of Albion, queen of isles !
Since all thy tears were changed to smiles,
The eyes, that never saw thee, shine
With joy not unallied to thine,
Transports not chargeable with art
Illume the land's remotest part,
And strangers to the air of courts,
Both in their toils and at their sports,
The happiness of answerd prayers,
That gilds thy features, show in theirs.

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