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So barren sands imbibe the show'r,
But render neither fruit nor flow'r,
Unpleasant and ungrateful.

The man I trust, if shy to me,
Shall find me as reserv’d 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 knowledge of mankind
To be at least expedient,
And, after summing all the rest,
Religion ruling in the breast
A principal ingredient.

The noblest Friendship ever shown
The Saviour's history makes known,
Though some have turn’d and turn'd it;
And, whether being craz'd 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
TJnworthy, base, and insincere,
Or may my friend deceive me!

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 smooths the knotted thorn
With frictions of her fleece;

And here I wander eve and morn,
Like her, a friend to peace.

Ah!—I could pity thee exil'd
From this secure retreat—

I would not loose it to be styl’d
The happiest of the great.

But 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 RANSACKPD, 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,
Bu, none I found, or found them shar'd
Already by some happier bard.
To modern times, with Truth to guide
My busy search, I next applied;
Here cities won, and fleets dispers'd,
Urg’d loud a claim to be rehears'd,
Deeds of unperishing renown,
Our fathers' triumphs and our own.
Thus, as the bee, from bank to bow'r,
Assiduous sips at ev'ry flow'r,
But rests on none, till that be found,
Where most nectareous sweets abound,
So I from theme to theme display’d
In many a page historick stray’d,

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