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Hear laughing Terence pour his comic strains,
Hear fabling Æsop warbling in his chains ;
By Genius fired, Columbus spreads his sails,
And a new world the advent'rous chieftain hails.
By Genius led along the stormy shore,
Where round the Cape the thund’ring surges roar,
And raging hurricanes its surface sweep,
Undaunted Gama ploughs the Indian deep.
How bright in Nelson glow'd its ardent flame!
What splendours blaze, round Pitt's unrival’d name!
Immortal patriots! o'er whose honour'd bier
Virtue and Britain shed th' unceasing tear!
O'er subject earth and scas 'tis GENIUS reigns,
And rolls the planets through yon azure plains.
No grov'ling native of this nether sphere,
The radiant child of Heav'n's eternal year!
Beyond the flight of vulgar thought he springs,
Nor human laws restrain his eagle wings ;
But chief the Critic's frigid rules he spurns,
And with his own immortal ardour burns.
To all his bold eccentric darings kind,
The proud excesses of a lofty inind,
Those errors that from burning feelings flow,
When high the spirits, warm the pulses glow,
Nor wholly overlook, nor nicely scan-
And for his GODLIKE talents spare the Man.
Oh! in no mean terrestrial balance weigh
The good or ill that marks his brilliant day;
But in that lofty balance hung on high,
For ever blazing in siis native sky!
'Tis only in celestial Libra weigh’d,
GENIUS, thy dazzling merits are display'd.
Reflect-through all the radiant march of time, Whatever great, or daring, or sublime,
Fills the vast volume of recording same,
From GENIUS sprang, and hallow'd be its flame!
As the bright Phænix at the solar beam
Drinks life and vigour from its parent stream,
The Phoenix Genius at a fount more bright
Quaffs the pure blaze, and beams reflected light.
Like watchful Magi guard the virgin fire,
Nor let its blaze in penury expire!
Would daring mortals check bis bright career,
And chain to earth a native of the sphere?
Go, the sweet influence of the Pleiads bind,
Bid their mild radiance cease to bless mankind;
Or vast Orion with thy nod control,
And loose Arcturus from the gleaming pole;
The madd’ning whirlwind of the South restrain,
And with thy plummet sound the unfathom'd main ;--
When Nature thus obeys thy ruling hand,
Then bend proud GENIUS to thy stern command.
Think’st thou that ne, whose soul delighted strays In the bright tract where circling planets blaze, Who richer treasures than Peru can boast, Or glow on wealthy India's rubied coast, Will bend his spirit of immortal birth, To heap the treasured dross of shining earth? Perish the thought!--Who sings the rolling sphere, And paints the beauties of the vernal year, Should taste, unbought, those bounties which it brings, And all the sweets his muse enraptur'd sings ; For him, with Nature's richest dainties stor'd Let pamper’d Dulness spread the sumptuous board; For him the Summer's golden fruits should glow, And the rich torrent of the vintage flow: Who to the banquet gives its genuine zest, For him, him only should the grape be prest.
Yours is the sacred charge, by Heav'n assign'd, On earth to cherish this proud Child of Mind. That charge how glorious ! how sublime the trust! To Heav'n be faithful,--and to Man be just. Guard this rich gem of the celestial mine, And bid its light to latest ages shine. Behold, with all the glow of Genius fir’d, For letters with unbounded zeal inspir'd, That Prince whose heart beats high for Britain's fame, And bounds at Liberty's transporting name, On Heav'n-born Talent sheds a cheering ray, Auspicious promise of a brighter day! Nor unrequited shall his bounty streamGenius rolls back the bright reflected beam; For cherish'd fires confers sublime renown, And with new glories gilds the British Crown. Foster'd by You,—beneath these frozen skies, I see new SHAKESPEARES, SPENSERS, MILTONS rise. I hear new DRYDENS, but in manlier strain, Resound some future GEORGE's glorious reign; And other Joneses, if the Fates are kind, With all their talents, all their fires combin'd, In Orient climes uphold the British name, And bless the FUND that nurs'd their rising flame.
Such a liar is Ned that there's none can lie faster,
Excepting his maid, and she'll lie with her master.
BY THE LATE REV. R. POTTER.
See, from the roseate east the morning springs,
And her fresh beams o'er brightening nature flings :
Joy to the new-born day!-Alas, what joy,
What cause of gladness can my thoughts employ?
If this revolving morn gave me to light
From the dark womb of unessential night,
Shall it be haild thro' each returning year?
This gratulation how will reason bear?
Is there a cause of joy? Look back, my soul,
Bid the past year in due succession roli.
Light ludicrous and dismal! folly, noise,
Substantial sorrows, and unreal joys;
Childhood's dark morning, youth's uncertain ray,
Manhood's hot noon mark out the various day;
No wisdom, but through folly's school obtain'd;
No passion conquer'd, and no virtue gain'd.-
And shall I bless the day, that brings again
The same wild farce, nor shifts the idle scene ?
Yes, I will bless it; for perhaps this day
Opens the last great act that ends the play.
This act no light atellane laugh shall raise,
But, grave with moral, merit sober praise :
Then shall some decent epilogue engage
Th' approving crowd to clap me off the stage.
ON THE DEATH OF THE REV. DR. KIPPIS.
Plac'o'midst the tempest, whose conflicting waves
The buoyant form of Gallic Freedom braves,
I from its swelling surge unheedful turn,
While o'er the grave where Kippis rests I mourn.
Friend of my life, by ev'ry tie endear'd,
By me lamented, as by me rever'd !
Whene'er remembrance would the past renew,
His image mingles with the pensive view;
Him through life's length’ning scene I mark with pride,
My earliest teacher, and my latest guide.
First, in the house of pray'r, his voice impress'd
Celestial precepts on my infant breast;
“ The hope that rests above," my childhood taught,
And lifted first to God my ductile thought.
And, when the heav'n-born Muse's cherish'd art
Shed its fresh pleasures on my glowing heart;
Flash'd o'er my soul one spark of purer light,
New worlds unfolding to my raptur'd sight;
When first with timid hand I touch'd the lyre,
And felt the youthful poet's proud desire;
His lib'ral comment fann'd the dawning flame,
His plaudit sooth'd me with a poet's name ;
Led by his counsels to the public shrine,
He bade the trembling hope to please be mine;