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Perhaps, the Chriftian Volume is the theme,
How guiltlefs blood for guilty man was fhed
How he who bore in heav'n the fecond name,
Had not on earth, whereon to lay his head.
How his firft followers and fervants fped;
The precepts fage they wrote to many a land;
How he who lone in Patmos banished,

Saw in the fun a mighty angel ftand:

And heard Great Babylon's doom pronounced by Heaven's command.

Then kneeling down to HEAV'N's ETERNAL KING,
The Saint, the Father, and the Hufband prays:

Hope fprings exulting on triumphant wing,
That thus they all fhall meet in future days;
There, ever balk in uncreated rays,

No more to figh or fhed the bitter tear ;

Together hymning their Creator's praise,

In fuch fociety, yet

ftill more dear:

While circling time moves round in an eternal sphere.

Compared with this how poor religion's pride,
In all the pomp of method, and of art
When men difplay to congregations wide,
Devotion's ev'ry grace, except the heart!
The Power incenfed the pageant will defert,
The pompous train, the facerdotal flole,
But haply in fome cottage far apart,

May hear well pleafed the language of the foul;

And in his Book of Life the inmates

poor enroll.

Then

Then homeward all take off their their feveral way
The youngling cottagers retire to reft,

The parent pair their fecret homage pays,
And proffer up to Heav'n the warm request,
That He who fills the raven's clam'rous neft,
And decks the lily fair in flow'ry pride,

Would in the way his wifdom fees the best,
For them, and for their little ones, provide,
But chiefly in their hearts with grace divine re fide.

From scenes like thefe old, Scotia's grandeur fprings,
That makes her loved at home, rever'd abroad;
Princes and lords are but the breath of kings,
"An honest man's the nobleft work of God!'!
And certes in fair Virtue's heav'nly road
The cottage leaves the palace far behind;
What is a lordling's pomp? a cumb'rous load,
Difguifing oft the wretch of human kind,
Studied in arts of hell, in wickedness refined.

O Scotia ! my dear, my native foil!
For whom my warmeft wifh to Heav'n is fent!
Long may thy hardy fons of ruftic toil,

Be bleft with health, and peace, and sweet content
And, O! may Heav'n their fimple lives prevent.
From luxury's contagion, weak and vile!

Then, howe'er crowns aud coronets be rent."
A virtuous populace may rife the while

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And fland a wall of fire around their much-loved ifle.

O thou!

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O thou! who pour'd the patriotic tide,

That ftreamed thro' Wallace's undaunted heart:
Who dared to nobly flem tyrannic pride,
Or nobly die, the fecond glorious part,
(The patriot's GOD, peculiarly thou art,
His friend, infpirer, guardian, and reward!)
O never, never, Scotia's realm desert,

But fill the Patriot, and the Patriot Bard,
In bright fucceffion raise, her ornament and guard!

PRAY

The Modern Courtier.

RAY fay what's that which fmirking trips this way. That powder'd thing, fo neat, fo trim, fo gay? Adorn'd with tambour'd veft, and fpangled fword, That fupple fervile thing ?-O! that's a Lord! You jeft-that thing a Peer? an English Peer? Who ought (with head, estate, and confcience clear} Either in grave debate, or hardy fight, Firmly maintain a free-born people's right: Surely thofe lords were of another breed Who met their monarch John at Runnemede ; And, clad in fteel, there in a glorious hour Made the curft tyrant feel the people's pow'r ; Made him confefs, beneath that awful rod, Their voice united is the voice of God.

N

Murray

The Pathetic farewett of Leonidas, to

his Wife and Family.

Vide Glor
Glovers Leonidas.

Published by J. Roach Woburn Street New Drury Theatre Royal May 1.1795

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