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And from their prifon-house below arise,
With all these hideous howlings to the fkies,
I could be much compofed, nor fhould appear
For fuch a caufe to feel the flightest fear.
Yourselves have feen,what time the thunders rolled
All night, we refting quiet in the fold.
Or heard we that tremendous bray alone,
I could expound the melancholy tone;
Should deem it by our old companion made,
The afs; for he, we know, has lately ftrayed,
And being loft perhaps, and wandering wide,
Might be fuppofed to clamour for a guide.
But ah! thofe dreadful yells what foul can hear,
That owns a carcafe, and not quake for fear?
Dæmons produce them doubtlefs, brazen-clawed
And fanged with brafs the dæmons are abroad;
I hold it therefore wifeft and moft fit,
That life to fave, we leap into the pit.

Him answered then his loving mate and true,
But more difcreet than he, a Cambrian ewe.
How? leap into the pit our life to fave?
To fave our life leap all into the grave?
For can we find it lefs? Contemplate first
The depth how awful! falling there, we burft:

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Or fhould the brambles, interpofed, our fall
In part abate, that happiness were small;
For with a race like theirs no chance I fee
Of peace or eafe to creatures clad as we.
Meantime, noife kills not. Be it Dapple's bray,
Or be it not, or be it whose it

may,

And rush those other founds, that feem by tongues Of dæmons uttered, from whatever lungs, Sounds are but founds, and till the caufe appear We have at least commodious standing here. Come fiend, come fury, giant, monster, blast From earth or hell, we can but plunge at laft.

While thus fhe fpake, I fainter heard the peals, For Reynard, close attended at his heels By panting dog, tired man, and spattered horse, Thro' mere good fortune, took a different course. The flock grew calm again, and I, the road Following, that led me to my own abode, Much wondered that the filly sheep had found Such caufe of terror in an empty found So fweet to huntsman, gentleman, and hound.

MORAL.

Beware of defperate fteps. The darkest day,
Live till to-morrow, will have paffed away.

BOADICE A.

AN ODE.

I.

WHEN the British warrior queen,
Bleeding from the Roman rods,
Sought, with an indignant mien,
Counsel of her country's gods,

II.

Sage beneath the spreading oak
Sat the Druid, hoary chief;
Every burning word he spoke

Full of rage, and full of grief.

III.

Princefs! if our aged eyes

Weep upon thy matchless wrongs,

'Tis because resentment ties

All the terrors of our tongues.

IV.

Rome shall perish-write that word
In the blood that she has spilt;
Perish, hopeless and abhorred,
Deep in ruin as in guilt.

V.

Rome, for empire far renowned,

Tramples on a thousand ftates;

Soon her pride fhall kifs the groundHark! the Gaul is at her gates!

VI.

Other Romans fhall arife,

Heedlefs of a foldier's name;

Sounds, not arms fhall win the prize, Harmony the path to fame.

VII.

Then the progeny that springs

From the forefts of our land,

Armed with thunder, clad with wings, Shall a wider world command.

VIII.

Regions Cæfar never knew

Thy pofterity fhall fway;

Where his eagles never flew,
None invincible as they.

IX.

Such the bard's prophetic words,
Pregnant with celestial fire,
Bending as he fwept the chords
Of his fweet but awful lyre.

X.

She, with all a monarch's pride,
Felt them in her bofom glow:
Rushed to battle, fought, and died;
Dying hurled them at the foe.

XI.

Ruffians, pitilefs as proud,

Heaven awards the vengeance due;

Empire is on us beftowed,

Shame and ruin wait for you.

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