tempt, they must, before the subsequent Publication, be detected by the Lodge of which they have falsely assumed the Number, and shall in consequence be held up, in DISTINGUISHED CHARACTERS, to ridicule and contempt.
The Brethren at large may be assured, that the Proprietor will not take the Liberty of inserting any Person's Name that shall not be sent to him expressly for that Purpose.
The Right Rev. the BISHOP of GLOUCESTER will preach a Sermon for the benefit of the CUMBERLAND FREEMASONS' SCHOOL, early in the month of April, in the parish Church of ST. CLEMENT DANES.
The DUTCHESS of CUMBERLAND and our Royal Brother the DUKE of CLARENCE have promised their attendance on the occasion.
Our respected and Rev. Brother T. A. ATWOOD, of Westminster, has promised a Sermon for the benefit of that benevolent institution.
LODGES OF INSTRUCTION.
Royal Oak, Newport Market, every Sunday, seven o'clock.
White Lion, High-street, Bloomsbury, Friday evening, seven o'clock.
Horn Tavern, Palace-yard, third Friday, seven o'clock.
The World is in pain
Our Secrets to gain,
But still let them wonder and gaze on;
'Till they're shewn the light,
They'll ne'er know the right
Word or Sign of an Accepted Mason.
'Tis this, and 'tis that,
They cannot tell what;
Why so many Great Men of the Nation
Should Aprons put on,
To make themselves one
With a Free and an Accepted Mason.
Great Kings, Dukes, and Lords,
Have laid by their Swords,
Our Mystery to put a good grace on,
Nor e'er been asham'd
To hear themselves nam'd
With a Free and an Accepted Mason.
Antiquity's pride
We have on our side,
Which maketh Men just in their station;
There's nought but what's good
To be understood
By a Free and an Accepted Mason.
We are true and sincere,
And just to the Fair,
They'll trust us on any occasion;
No Mortal can more
Than a Free and an Accepted Mason.
Then join hand in hand,
By each other firm stand,
Let's be merry and put a bright face on;
What Mortal can boast
As a Free and an Accepted Mason.
The last three lines to be thrice repeated.
BY BROTHER LOWE, OF STOCKPORT.
ATHER Adam, created, beheld the Light shine,
God made him a Mason, and gave him a Sign,
Our Royal grand Secret to him did impart,
And in Paradise often he talk'd of our Art.
Then Noah found favor and grace in his sight,
He built up an Ark by the help of our Light;
In the Clouds God his Rainbow then set, to insure
That his Mercies and Cov'nants should ever endure.
Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, partook of the same,
And Moses, that excellent Mason of fame,
Whom God had appointed his chosen to bring
From bondage, and humble proud Egypt's great King.
VOL. IV.
Bezaleel and Aholiab were likewise inspir'd
By the Spirit of Wisdom, and for it admir'd,
Well skill'd in all workmanship curious and true,
Of scarlet and purple, fine Linen and blue.
In the Wilderness, taught by our great Architect,
A grand Tabernacle they then did erect,
And Vessels they made of Gold that was good,
Wrought Silver, Brass, Stones, and fine Shittim Wood
Then Joshua was chosen to have the command,
Who led them all safe into the Holy Land;
And to shew that the Lord would his mercies fulfil,
Sun and Moon at the order of Joshua stood still.
Next David and Jonathan a Covenant made,
By the Son of great Saul he ne'er was betray'd;
And tho' strange, yet it's scriptural truth that I tell,
That the Love of Saul's Son did all Women's excel.
David's Heart sore did ache this kind love to return,
When for Saul's seven Sons the Lord's anger did burn':
Then the Sons of great Saul King David did take,
But spared Mephibosheth for his Oath's sake.
Our noble Grand Masters appear next in view,
Who built up the Temple, so just and so true,
The pattern which David from God had receiv'd,
Who, not suffer'd to build, in his heart was sore griet'd.
Our Secret divine, which had lain long conceal'd,
By a Light from above unto me was reveal'd;
Surpris'd with the radiance with which it did shine,
I felt and confess'd it was something divine.
Then having pass'd three, and both offer'd and burn'd,
I soon gain'd admittance on that Holy Ground,
And reveal'd unto me were the Myst'ries I sought,
Tho' the Light was by Darkness comprehended not.
Being thus consecrated, I soon did accord
To acknowledge Jehovah for God and for Lord,
Believ'd him the Source of the Light that did shine,
And confess'd him to be our Grand Master divine.
Then join Hands and Hearts your voices to raise ;
With the whole of Creation unite and sing Praise ;
To the Power divine all Glory be given,
By Men upon Earth, and by Angels in Heaven.
ODE FOR THE NEW YEAR,
BY JAMES PYE, ESQ. POET-LAUREAT.
GAIN the swift revolving hours,
A Bring January's frozen car;
Still discord on the nation low'rs,
Still reigns the iron power of war,
Hush'd be awhile the tumult's storm,
Awhile let concord's milder form
Glide gently o'er each smiling plain;
While, as they weave the myrtle wreath
The sporting loves and graces breathe
The hymeneal strain.
From parent Elbe's high trophy'd shore,
Whence our illustrious Chiefs of yore
Brought that blest code of laws their sons revere,
And hade the glorious fabric flourish here,
The Royal Virgin comes-ye gales
Auspicious, fill the swelling sails;
And while ye gently curl the azure's deep,
Let every ruder blast in silence sleep;
For not from Afric's golden sands,
Or either India's glowing lands,
Have e'er the favouring Nereids brought
A prize to us so dear, a bark so richly fraught,
Bright maid to thy expecting eyes
When Albion's cliffs congenial rise,
No foreign forms thy looks shall meet,
Thine ear no foreign accents greet:
Here shall thy breast united transports prove,
Of kindred fondness and connubial love;
O! that amid the nuptial flowers we twine,
Our hands the olive's sober leaves might join ;
Thy presence teach the storm of war to cease,
Disarm the battle's rage, and charm the world to peace.
Yet if the stern vindictive foe,
Insulting, aim the hostile blow;
Britain in inartial terrors dight,
Lifts high th' avenging sword, and courts the fight
On every side behold her swains
Crowd eager from her fertile plains
With breasts undaunted; lo, they stand,
Firm bulwark of their native land;
And proud her floating Castles, round
The Guardians of her happy coast,
Bid their terrific thunder sound
Dismay to Gallia's scatter'd host;
While still Britannia's Navies reign
Triumphant o'er the subject main.
WRITTEN ON THE FREQUENT WANTON ABUSE OF THE POWERS OF THAT NOBLE ANIMAL.
NEASE, Master, cease, a little mercy lend,
Nor thus my reeking sides incessant flay;
Let thy sharp scourge my lab'ring bones befriend,
Nor thus my efforts cruelly repay.
Since Morning's dawn near fourscore miles I've sped,
And Day's meridian scarcely now is o'er,
Oh! let me seek near yonder ale-house shed
That lowly stable's hospitable door!
And must I pass it? Oh, my trembling limbs,
Ye soon beneath your cruel load must sink,
My brain e'en now in faint delirium swims,
For life fast verges to destruction's brink,
Bred in thy fields, I knew thy presence well,
And ever ran thy smoothing hand to greet;
Then frisk'd along the daisy-sprinkled dell
To shew thee early that my pow'rs were fleet.
To please thy fancy I with patience bent
My velvet ear to meet the Iron's heat,
And all the torturing whims which Men invent,
To tame and shape us to their ends compleat.
Fed in thy pasture, I with grateful speed
Have been the foremost with the tuneful pack,
Nor hill, nor hedge, nor wall, could e'er impede,
But o'er I brought thee on my faithful back.
When late at Marts and Taverns thou hast staid,
Thy sense unequal to direct the road,
O'er the dark heath-thro' rutted lanes I've neigh'd
And bore in safety home my drowsy load.
Oft my dear Mistress have I drawn with care,
With her sweet brood to join the village school,
And thought myself full proud when she would spare
One look, one pat, or call me her-" poor Fool!"*
With such a charge for worlds I had not fell,
Nor giv'n alarm to those so dear to thee-
Then let compassion in thy bosom dwell,
Nor furious thus increase my misery!
Oh! if Intemp'rance in her wildest hours,
Has urg'd thee to propose the cruel bet,
My once kind Master! strain no more my pow'rs,
They fail beneath the arduous task that's set.
If true the doctrine which some sages hold,
Of transmigration's just and vengeful fate, Oh! think what horror will thy page unfold,
How wilt thou suffer in thine alter'd state!
This day's base action then shall rise in awe,
And doom thee to some pannier'd Ass's lot,
Thy sides half famish'd, and thy back half raw,
Standing neglected near thy Master's cot.
Or, some grim Tyrant, bent on pelf and blood,
May bring on thee a premature old age;
An out-cast cripple, sell thee from his stud,
To meet the Collier's, or the Sandman's rage.
Ah! dost thou pause-thy heel forget its stroke
'Tis now too late to own the deed accurst;
Mercy too late has in thy heart awoke-
My eyes grow dim, my mighty heart is burst!
Farewell!-affected by my mournful tale,
Some breasts may feel the keenness of remorse; And should my fate but turn compassion's scale, A future Race may bless the dying Horse.
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