(For stormy troubles loudest roar She thus maintains divided sway With yon bright regent of the day; My right there is none to dispute; I am lord of the fowl and the brute. Oh solitude! where are the charms, That sages have seen in thy face? Than reign in this horrible place. I am out of humanity's reach, Society, friendship, and love, Divinely bestowed upon man, Oh, had I the wings of a dove, My sorrows I then might assuage age, And be cheered by the sallies of youth. VOL. I. X Religion! what treasure untold Ye winds, that have made me your sport, Convey to this desolate shore Some cordial endearing report Of a land, I shall visit no more. My friends, do they now and then send A wish or a thought after me? O tell me I yet have a friend, Though a friend I am never to see. How fleet is a glance of the mind! Compared with the speed of its flight, 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. But the sea-fowl is gone to her nest, The beast is laid down in his lair; Even here is a season of rest, 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. ROUND Thurlow's head in early youth, And in his sportive days, Fair science poured the light of truth, See! with united wonder cried With all the skill of age! Discernment, eloquence, and grace, Proclaim him born to sway The balance in the highest place, And bear the palm away. |