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Society, friendship, and love,
Divinely bestow'd upon man, O, had I the wings of a dove,
How soon would I taste you again! My sorrows I then might assuage
In the ways of religion and truth, Might learn from the wisdom of age,
And be cheer'd by the sallies of youth.
Religion! what treasure untold
Resides in that heavenly word! More precious than silver and gold,
Or all that this Earth can afford. But the sound of the church-going bell
These vallies and rocks never heard, Never sigh'd at the sound of a knell,
Or smil'd when a sabbath appear'd.
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
O tell me I yet have a friend,
How fleet is a glance of the mind!
ComparM with the speed of ifs 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 seafowl 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 ThurloVs head in early youth,
And in his sportive days,
And Genius shed his rays.
See! with united wonder cried
Ambition in a boy supplied
Discernment, eloquence, and grace
Proclaim him born to sway
And bear the palm away.
The praise bestow'd was just and wise;
He sprang impetuous forth Secure of conquest, where the prize
Attends superior worth.
So the best courser on the plain
And does but at the goal obtain
ODE TO PEACE.
Come, peace of mind, delightful guest
Once more in this sad heart: Nor riches I nor pow'r pursue, Nor hold fobidden joys in view;
We therefore need not part.
Where wilt thou dwell, if not with me,
From av'rice and ambition free,
And pleasure's fatal wiles?
The banquet of thy smiles?
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]
For thee I panted, thee I priz'd.
For thee I gladly sacrific'd
And shall I see thee start away,
And helpless, hopeless, hear thee sayFarewell! we meet no more?