VERSES BY ALEXANDER SELKIRK. 179 IV. Religion! what treasure untold V. Ye winds that have made me your sport, Of a land I shall visit no more. O tell me I yet have a friend, VI. How fleet is a glance of the mind ! And the swift-winged arrows of light. VII. But the sea-fowl is gone to her nest, Even here is a season of rest, 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. I. ROUND Thurlow's head, in early youth, Fair Science pour'd the light of truth II. See! with united wonder, cried Th' experienc'd and the sage, Ambition in a boy supplied III. Discernment, eloquence, and grace, The balance in the highest place, And bear the palm away. IV. The praise bestow'd was just and wise, He sprang impetuous forth, Secure of conquest, where the prize Attends superiour worth. V. So the best courser on the plain COME, peace of mind, delightful guest! Nor riches I nor pow'r pursue, Nor hold forbidden joys in view; II. Where wilt thou dwell, if not with me, And pleasure's fatal wiles ? III. The great, the gay, shall they partake, The Heav'n that thou alone canst make? And wilt thou quit the stream That murmurs through the dewy mead, The grove and the sequester'd shed To be a guest with them? IV. For thee I panted, thee I priz'd, Whate'er I lov'd before; And shall I see thee start away, And helpless, hopeless, hear thee say Farewell! we meet no more? HUMAN FRAILTY. 1. WEAK and irresolute is man; Woven with pains into his plan, To-morrow rends away. II. The bow well bent, and smart the spring, Vice seems already slain; But Passion rudely snaps the string, And it revives again. III. Some foe to his upright intent Virtue engages his assent, But Pleasure wins his heart. IV. Tis here the folly of the wise Through all his heart we view; And, while his tongue the charge denies, His conscience owns it true. V. Bound on a voyage of awful length And dangers little known, A stranger to superiour strength, Man vainly trusts his own. VI. But oars alone can ne'er prevail, To reach the distant coast; The breath of Heav'n must swell the sail, Or all the toil is lost. THE MODERN PATRIOT. I. REBELLION is my theme all day: (As who knows but perhaps it may ?) II. Yon roaring boys, who rave and fight On t'other side th' Atlantick, I always held them in the right, But most so when most frantick. III. When lawless mobs insult the court, IV. But, O! for him my fancy culls Who constitutionally pulls Your house about your ears. V. Such civil broils are my delight, Who say the mob are mad outright, VI. A rope! I wish we patriots had Such strings for all who need 'em What! hang a man for going mad! |