would very commonly indulge himself in a loose and heedless style of talking, which for a time might intercept and screen from observation the sound good sense that he possessed, and the strength and dignity of mind, that were natural to him. Neither ought it to be forgotten that the sea was his element, and it was there, and not on land, that the standard ought to be planted by which his merits should be measured. We are apt to set that man down as vain-glorious and unwise, who fights battles over the table, and in the ardour of his conversation, though amongst enviers and enemies, keeps no watch upon his words, confiding in their candour and believing them his friends. Such a man was Admiral Lord Rodney, whom history will record amongst the foremost of our naval heroes, and whoever doubts his courage might as well dispute against the light of the sun at noonday.

"That he carried this projected manoeuvre into operation, and that the effect of it was successfully decisive all the world knows. My friend, Sir Charles Douglas, captain of the fleet, confessed to me that he himself had been adverse to the experiment, and in discussing it with the admiral had stated his objections; to these he got no other answer but that his counsel was not called for; he required obedience only, he did not want advice.' Sir Charles also told me that whilst the project was in operation, (the battle then raging)

his own attention being occupied by the gallant defence made by the French Glorieux against the ships that were pouring their fire into her, upon his crying out- Behold, Sir George, the Greeks and Trojans contending for the body of Patroclus?' The admiral, then pacing the quarter deck in great agitation, pending the experiment of his manœuvre, (which in the instance of one ship had unavoidably miscarried) peevishly exclaimed,— 'Damn the Greeks and damn the Trojans; I have other things to think of.'-When in a few minutes after, his supporting ship having led through the French line in a gallant style, turning with a smile of joy to Sir George Douglas, he cried out,- Now, my dear friend, I am at the service of your Greeks and Trojans, and the whole of Homer's Iliad, or as much of it as you please, for the enemy is in confusion, and our victory is secure.' This anecdote, correctly as I relate it, I had from that gallant officer, untimely lost to his country, whose candour scorned to rob his admiral of one leaf of his laurels, and who, disclaiming all share in the manœuvre, nay confessing he had objected to it, did, in the most pointed and decided terms, again and again repeat his honourable attestations of the courage and conduct of his commanding officer on that memorable day."

It was a maxim with this great man never to embarrass the strict line of his duty by any political considerations of what parties prevailed, or what

were dismissed; a maxim which might be advantageously adopted by some men now in the service, who confound the duties of their station by mixing in all the petty intrigues of faction. "Our naval officers," said Rodney, "have nothing to do with parties and politics, being simply bound to carry their instructions into execution, to the best of their abilities, without deliberating about men and measures, which forms no part of their duty, and for which they are in no degree responsible." These are the arguments of a superior mind which clearly conceives its object, and accomplishes it by open, manly, and direct means.

With Lord Mansfield, Cumberland was familiarly intimate, and to him he addressed the following pleasing lines, in allusion to his recal on a change of ministers :

To the Earl of Mansfield.

Shall merit find no shelter but the grave,
And envy still pursue the wise and brave?
Sticks the leech close to life, and only drops
When its food fails and the heart's current stops?
Though sculptur'd laurels grace the hero's bust,
And tears are mingled with the poet's dust,
Review their sad memorials, you will find

This fell by faction, that in misery pin'd.

When France and Spain the subject ocean swept,
Whilst Briton's tame inglorious lion slept,

Or lashing up his courage now and then,

Turn'd out and growl'd, and then turn'd in again,

Rodney in that ill-omen'd hour arose,

Crush'd his own first and next his country's foes;

Though all that fate allow'd was nobly won,

Envy could squint at something still undone;

Injurious faction stript him of command,
And snatch'd the helm from his victorious hand,
Summon'd the nation's brave defender home,
Prejudg'd his cause and warn'd him to his doom;
Whilst hydra-headed malice open'd wide

Her thousand mouths, and bay'd him till he died.
The poet's cause comes next-and you my Lord,
The Muse's friend, will take a poet's word;
Trust me our province is replete with pain;
They say we're irritable, envious, vain :
They say—and Time has varnish'd o'er the lie
Till it assumes Truth's venerable dye-
That wits, like falcons soaring for their prey,
Pounce every wing that flutters in their way,
Plunder each rival songster's tuneful breast
To deck with others plumes their own dear nest;
They say-but 'tis an office I disclaim
To brush their cobwebs from the roll of fame,
There let the spider hang and work his worst,
And spin his flimsy venom till he burst;
Reptiles beneath the holiest shrine may dwell,
And toads engender in the purest well.

Genius must pay its tax like other wares
According to the value which it bears;
On sterling worth detraction's stamp is laid,
As gold before 'tis current is assay'd.
Fame is a debt time present never pays,
But leaves it on the score to future days;
And why is restitution thus deferr'd
Of long arrears from year to year incurr'd?
Why to posterity this labour given
To search out frauds and set defaulters even ?
If our sons hear our praise 'tis well, and yet
Praise in the father's ear had sounded sweet.

Still there is one exception we must own,
Whom all conspire to praise, and one alone;
One on whose living brow we plant the wreath,
And almost deify on this side death:
He in the plaudits of the present age
Already reads his own historic page,

And, though preëminence is under heav'n
The last of crimes by man to be forgiv'n,
Justice her own vice-gerent will defend,
The orphan's father and the widow's friend;
Truth, virtue, genius mingle beams so bright,
Envy is dazzl'd with excess of light;
Detraction's tongue scarce stammers out a fault,
And faction blushes for its own assault.
His the happy gift, the nameles grace,
That shapes and fits the man to every place,
The gay companion at the social board,
The guide of councils, or the senate's lord,
Now regulates the law's discordant strife,
Now balances the scale of death or life,
Sees guilt engendering in the human heart,
And strips from falsehood's face the mask of art.
Whether, assembled with the wise and great,
He stands the pride and pillar of the state,
With well-weigh'd argument distinct and clear
Confirms the judgment and delights the ear,
Or in the festive circle deigns to sit
Attempering wisdom with the charms of wit-
Blest talent, form'd to profit and to please,
To clothe Instruction in the garb of Ease,
Sublime to rise, or graceful to descend,
Now save an empire and now cheer a friend.
More I could add, but you perhaps complain,

And call it mere creation of the brain;

Poets you say will flatter-true, they will;

But I nor inclination have nor skill

Where is your model, you will ask me, where?

Search your own breast, my Lord, you'll find it there.