That genius arm'd with high perfuafion's power- The features of thy honeft worth, and gain Infpir'd by genuine probity, and breath'd Unknown) that kindles thro' the crowd, the flame Of other days, while Greece furvey'd her fons "And thus, reflected by thy brighter brows, ODE on his MAJESTY'S BIRTH-DAY. [By the Rev. THOMAS WARTON, B. D. Poet-Laurcat.] A I. MID the thunder of the war, True glory guides no echoing ear; of the Spectators, feem to be hovering over the dishes. Wine, the great purveyor of pleafure, and the fecond in rank among the fenfes, offers his fervice, when love takes his leave. It is natural to catch hold of every help, when the spirits begin to droop. Love and wine are good cordials, but are not proper for the beverage of common ufe. Refolve not to go to-bed on a full meal. A light fupper and a good confcience are the beft receipts for a good night's reft; and the parents of undisturbing dreams. Not to be enervated by the flatulency of tea. Let the fecond or third morning's thought be to confider of the employment for the day; and one of the laft at night to enquire what has been done in the course of it. Not to let one's tongue run at the expence of truth. Not to be too communicative nor unreserved. A clofe tongue, with an open countenance, are the fafeft paffports through the journey of the world. To correct the error of too much talking, and restrain the narrativeness of the approaching climacteric. To take the good-natured fide in converfation. However, not to praife every body, for that is to praife no body. Not to be inquifitive, and eager to know fecrets, nor be thought to have a head full of other people's affairs. Not to make an enemy, nor to lofe a friend. To aim at the esteem of the public, and to leave a good name behind. Not to be fingular in drefs, in behaviour, in notions, or expreffions of one's thoughts. Never to give bad advice, and to frive not to fet a bad example. Seldom to give advice till afked, for it appears like giving fomething that is fuperfluous to "one's felf. Not to like or diflike too much at first fight. Not to wonder, for all wonder is ignorance that poffeffion falls fhort of expectation. The longing of twenty years may be disappointed in the unanfwered gratification of a fingle hour. Whilft we are withing, we fee the best fide; after we have taken poffeffion, the worst. Refolved, to attend to the arguments on both fides: and to hear every body against every body. The mind ought not to be made up, but upon the best evidence. To be affectionate to relations, which is a kind of felf-love, in preference to all other acquaintance. But not to omit paying the commanding refpect to merit, which is fuperior to all the accidental chains of kindred. Not to debilitate the mind by new and future compofitions. Like the fpider, it may fpin itself to death. The mind, like the field, muft have its fallow feafon. The leisure of the pen has created honourable acquaintance, and pleafed all it has wifhed to pleafe. To refolve, not to be too free of promises, for performances are fometimes very difficult things. Not to be too much alone, nor to read, nor meditate, or talk too much on points that may awaken tender fenfations, and be too pathetic for the foul. To enjoy the prefent, not to be made too unhappy by reflection on the past, nor to be oppreffed by invincible gloom on the future. To give and receive comfort, thofe neceffary alins to a diftreffed mind. To be conftantly thankful to Providence for the plenty hitherto poffeffed, which has preferved one from the dependence on party, perfons, and opinions, and kept one out of debt. The appearance of a happy fituation, and opportunities of tafting many worldly felicities (for content has feldom perverted itself into difcontent), has induced many to conclude, that one must be pleased WHE 7HERE Hitchin's gentle current glides, Sacred to prayer and holy rites Here monks of faintly Benedict But Harry's wide reforming hand Then wicked laymen ent'ring in, Ev'n to the chapel's facred roof, Refounds the flute, and fprightly dance, Yet Fame reports, that monkish shades To haunt the manfions once their own, And tread its cloisters pale. One night, more prying than the reft, And enter'd where on beds of down Here, foftening midnight's raven gloom, There, wrapt in folds of cypress lawn Her virtuous aunt was laid. POETRY. The VILLAGE FREEHOLDER. [From the News Paper, a Poem, by Mr. CRABEE.] N OR here th' infectious rage for party flops, Here he delights the weekly news to con, While thus he reads or raves, around him wait Partake his manly fpirit, and delight To praise or blame, to judge of wrong or right; Till all go madding for their country's fake. To Heav'n my eyes are often caft Ah me! I fear in borrow'd shape For once my hand, at masquerade, His form as thine, but holier founds He told me vows no more were made But adoration paid alone. To faints of flesh and blood, That rofy cheeks, and radiant eyes, That maids, by whofe obdurate pride Refpect the first command, he cried, And well obferve the precept given Thus fpoke, ah yet I hear him speak! She ceas'd-the monk in fhades of night And Superftition's clouds diffolv'd In fenfe, and beauty's ray. The |