On hearing the DRUM of a RECRUIT-
ING PARTY.
HATE that drum's difcordant found.
Parading round, and round, and round:
To thoughtless youth it pleafure yields,
And lures from cities, and from fields,
To fell their liberty for charms
Of tawdry lace and glittering arms,
And when Ambition's voice commands
To march and fight, and fall in foreign lands.
I hate that drum's difcordant found,
Parading round, and round, and round:
To me it talks of ravaged plains,
And burning towns and ruin'd twains,
And mangled limbs, and dying groans,
And widow's tears, and orphan's moans,
And all that mifery's hand bestows,
To fill the catalogue of human woes.
SONNET, on the EVENING.
Or the LOVER's COMPLAINT-
HE Shepherds, retir'd from the date
The mantle fo fullea, to grey,
Thrown o'er the lap of the vale
And the Lark does n't fing on the spray,
The plains into fimoke have decay'd,
Thus darknefs, and fadness prevail,
The Landfkip in Ombre array'd:
And the, night-bird now tells a fad tale;
"What need I thus languish and figh
'Tis Damon fhe loves and not me, "Yet tears hush apace from mine eye, "But cannot announce the decree: "Ah! what avails my love-fick thought to move She ftill loves Damon!-cannot help but love." DARLINGTON.
On FREEDOM.
FREEDOM, happy focial power,
On all heads thy influence how'r,
ALBIONS fons thy worth proclaim
And GALLIA aims to gain thy name.
Wide and wider with the fun,
May thy friendly conquests run;
Make tyrannic Princes bow,
And thy fway to Rulers fhow.
See jealous Spain with anxious eyes,
View thy progrefs with furprize.
More fhe feeks thy worth to hide,
More thy worth the teft will bide.
See Bigot Rome on feven hills,
Prophetic deftiny fulfils, ́.
We foon in ruin fhall her fee,
Subdu'd fair Liberty by thee.
The nations round' have lent their aid,
That "Myft'ry Babylon "may be paid
The kingdoms do their art employ,
Her horrid power to destroy.
No more with arbitrary fway,
Shall Kings her mandates now obey;
She once a "golden cup
"golden cup" was feen,
And rul'd on earth as fov'reign queen.
But now her power in duft is laid,
And small's the homage to her paid;
By ancient records this appears,
Compar'd with that of former years.
Have we not feen the nations round,
Contrive her greatnefs to confound,
Were they not warmeft in her cause,
Who now are found her greatest foes?
Are we fo blind, or will not see,
Those we were told long fince thould be ;
Tho' ftrange to fome it may appear,
Yet truth and freedom make it clear.
ANNA'S COMPLAINT ;
MISERIES of WAR.
ON Thanet's rock, beneath whofe fteep,
Impetuous rolls the foaming deep,
A lowly maid, to grief confign'd,
Thus pour'd the forrows of her mind;
And while her ftreaming eyes purfue
Of Gallia's cliffs the mifty view,
Accurft (the cries)}that guilty fhore,
Whence William fhall return no more!
Thou, cruel war, what haft thou done!
Thro' thee the mother mourns her ion,
The orphan joins the widow's cries,
And, torn from love-the lover dies.
Ah, William! wherefore didft thou go
To foreign lands to meet the foe?
Why, won by war's deceitful charms,
Didit thou forfake thy Anna's arms?
Alas! full little didft thou know,
The monfler war doth falfely fhow:
He decks his form with pleafing art,
And hides the daggers in his heart.
The mufic of his martial band,
The fhining halberd in his hand;
The feather'd helmet on his head,
And coat to fine of flaming red-
With thefe the fimple youth he gains,
And tempts him from his peaceful plains;
And by this pomp was William led
The dang'rous paths of war to tread.
Fair-founding words my love deceiv'd:
The great ones talk'd, and he believ'd,
That war would fame and treafure bring,
That glory call'd to ferve the king.
But wife men fay, and fure it's true,
That war is theft and murder too;
Yet had my William thought it so,
He had not gone to fight the foe.
How bleft, could Arna tee him now,
With thoulders bending o'er the plough,
Toiling to tow his native fields,
And reap the harvet virtue yields.
Then happier lot would both betide,
A bridegt om he, and a bride.
But thefe fond hopes return no more,
For dead he lies on yonder shore.
O! in that battle's difmal day,
When thou, dear youth, didst gasping lay,
Why was not then thy Anna there,
To bind thy wounds with foftest care,
To search with speed the neareft fpring,
To thy parch'd lips the water bring,
To wash with tears thy bleeding face,
And footh thee with a laft embrace?
But thou, amid a savage train,
Wert mingled 'mong the heaps of flain,
Without one friend to hear thy fighs,
Or Anna's hand to clofe thine eyes.
Thou, cruel War, what haft thou done!
Thro' thee the mother mourns her fon,,
The orphan joins the widow's fighs,
And, torn from Anna-William dies.
Aníwered by IGNORA MUS.
Advice to a Lady who profeffes her intention to
become a NUN. Æ. 23.
THE TEAR which flow'd from Delia's Eye,
When the monaftic vows had ta'en,
Big as an EGG fell on the Ground
Soon as the spy'd her once-lov'd fwain.
Religion promped her to leave
The World, and all its glittering fhews,-
Ita Pomp and pride to her were nought;
Enchanted with celeftial Views.
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