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*Tis sweet to cchio sigh for sigh ;
To watch your dear child's closing ege;
To catch the angei's dying breath,
And kiss the wan cold cheek of death,

'Tis sweet to nurse a silent grief,
Beyond the busy world's relief :
To suffer yet conceal the smart;
And veil with smiles a wounded heart.

'Tis sweet by twilight pale, alone, To

press the dumb, sepulchral stone; For still, to God and nature dear, Flows sadly sweet the parent's tear.

'Tis sweet to wake the harp of woé,
And see the drops of pity flow!
To melt the Outlaw's savage heart;
And warm the frozen breast of Art.


To Mrs. B

'Tis Friendship's right, I know full well,
Freely unpleasant truths to tell :
But, till this hour, I never knew
She claim'd a right of telling too,
Things both unpleasant and untrue,

R. A. D.


Tecum venitque, minetque; t.
Tecum discedet.


IF e'er to feel the breath of Fame

Could hope my humble lyre, It were because thy sacred name

Hangs trembling on its wire. Thy name breathes magic o'er my song,

As when by Selma's springs, An unknown spirit mov'd along,

And swept the dying strings.
Thy rising worth with silent joy

My raptur'd soul surveys;
Thy virtues all my thoughts employ,

Thy merit all my praise.
As every radiant star supplies,

An index to the spheres,
So, in the lustre of thine eyes,

Thine obvious soul appears.
Thy presence bids the morning rays

Commix with shades of even;
And to my ear thy voice conveys,

The harmony of Heaven.


As fields of grain th' impulsive wind,

With all their waves obey ;
So, mov'd by thee, my yielding mind,

Shall own thy gentle sway.
Thus o'er the plaintive harp I bend,

Because Thou lovest its tone;
Seeking howe'er thy wishes tend,

To'assimilate my own.
And hence the Mantuan's glowing page,

Can mightier thoughts inspire;:
As swells the sympathetic rage,

I think I feel Thy fire.
Hence too, the milder Roman's * bays

More sportively entwine,
While breathes through all his polish'd lays,

The elegance of Thine.
And nature best my bosom warms,

When wild her features grow,
Because Thou lov'st her awful charms,

With all th' enthusiast's glow.
When soften’d beauty, meeken'd grace,

In milder scenes I see,
Th'enchantment of each magic place,

Is borrow'd half from Thee. Thus

reason gave my passion birth ; Nature and heaven approve, And to my eyes the total earth

Is full of thee and love.

# Ovid,



On the Thanksgiving for the Victory of the Nile. Partly an Imitation of Jam satis Terris.



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Enough hath impious Gallic rage
With direful threats alarm’d the age ;
And taught a guilty world to fear
Some prodigy in nature near;
Some change to those barbaric times

When Gothic ignorance and crimes,
Again shou'd banish, in one ruin hurld,
Peace and all social blessings from the world.

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Enough have Atheists in their pride
The God of all the earth defied:
Robb'd by the sacrilegious hand
We saw his temples naked stand;
And as Religion died away,

Beheld Humanity decay,
And worse than brutal fury overwhelm,
And drench with blood of massacres the realm.


We saw with wild gigantic stride
Their terrors spreading far and wide;
Safe landed upon Egypt's coast,
We saw the desolating host,
For Indus—long a destin'd prey

To death and rapine speed their way;
Whilst in extremes upon the western flood
Aghast with horror pale Hibernia stood.


What power shall bring them back to peace,
And still this raging of the scas ?
Thine, thou Almighty gracious Lord !
By grateful Britoris still ador'd!
To thee the willing vow we pay,

To thee for help in need we pray;
Nor sear, protected by thy shield and bow,
What France in all her pride and wrath can do.


Ordain'd by thy supreme decree
To rule the empire of the sea,
If Albion be the favor'd land
The delegate of thy command
To tell the rash invading foe

Thus far nor further shalt thoti go:
To thee alone the grateful voice we raise
To thee alone we give the thanks and praise.


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