Too many, Lord, abuse thy grace, In this licentious day; And while they boast they see thy face,
And dwells there in a female heart, By bounteous Heaven design'd, The choicest raptures to impart,
Here lies one who never drew Blood himself, yet many slew; Gave the gun its aim, and figure
Reader! behold a monument That asks no sigh or tear, Though it perpetuate the event
Sir, when I flew to seize the bird In spite of your command, A louder voice than yours I heard,
When the British warrior queen, Bleeding from the Roman rods, Sought, with an indignant mien,
Qua nihil majus meliusve terris Fata donav're, bonique divi; Nec dabunt, quamvis redeant in aurum
To be remember'd thus is fame, And in the first degree; And did the few, like her, the same,
Hence, my epistle--skim the Deep--fly o'er Yon smooth expanse to the Teutonic shore! Haste--lest a friend should grieve for thy delay--
What various hindrances we meet In coming to a mercy-seat! Yet who that knows the worth of prayer,
When Hagar found the bottle spent, And wept o'er Ishmael, A message from the Lord was sent
What virtue, or what mental grace But men unqualified and base Will boast it their possession?
Doceas iter, et sacra ostia pandas. - Virg. Aen. 6. Ask what is human life'the sage replies,
Other stones the era tell When some feeble mortal fell; I stand here to date the birth
Farewell! endued with all that could engage All hearts to love thee, both in youth and age! In prime of life, for sprightliness enroll'd
To Jesus, the Crown of my hope, My soul is in haste to be gone: O bear me, ye cherubim, up,
The Saviour hides his face! My spirit thirsts to prove Renew'd supplies of pardoning grace,
Grace, triumphant in the throne, Scorns a rival, reigns alone; Come and bow beneath her sway,
Come, peace of mind, delightful guest! Return, and make thy downy nest Once more in this sad heart:
Go'thou art all unfit to share The pleasures of this place With such as its old tenants are,
So then'the Vandals of our isle, Sworn foes to sense and law, Have burnt to dust a nobler pile
O that those lips had language! Life has pass'd With me but roughly since I heard thee last. Those lips are thine'thy own sweet smile I see,
When wit and genius meet their doom In all-devouring flame, They tell us of the fate of Rome,
My lids with grief were tumid yet, And still my sullied cheek was wet With briny dews profusely shed
Of all the gifts thine hand bestows, Thou Giver of all good! Not heaven itself a richer knows
When Israel by Jehovah call'd From Egypt's hostile plain, Pour'd forth in numbers as the Sand
Far from the world, O Lord, I flee, From strife and tumult far; From scenes where Satan wages still
O Lord, my best desire fulfil, And help me to resign Life, health, and comfort to thy will,
Obscurest night involved the sky, The Atlantic billows roar'd, When such a destined wretch as I,
John Gilpin was a citizen Of credit and renown, A train-band captain eke was he
The greenhouse is my summer seat; My shrubs displaced from that retreat Enjoy'd the open air;
How blest thy creature is, O God, When, with a single eye, He views the lustre of thy word,
To tell the Saviour all my wants, How pleasing is the task! Nor less to praise him when he grants
Thus says the prophet of the Turk, Good Mussulman, abstain from pork; There is a part in every swine
Rebellion is my theme all day; I only wish 'twould come (As who knows but perhaps it may?)
'Twas in the glad season of spring, Asleep at the dawn of the day, I dream'd what I cannot but sing,
A poet's cat, sedate and grave As poet well could wish to have, Was much addicted to inquire
What Nature, alas! has denied To the delicate growth of our isle, Art has in a measure supplied,
Strophe I My two-fold Book! single in show But double in Contents,
The bard, if e'er he feel at all, Must sure be quicken'd by a call Both on his heart and head,
Maria, could Horace have guess'd What honour awaited his ode To his own little volume address'd,
My gentle Anne, whom heretofore, When I was young, and thou no more Than plaything for a nurse,
Dear President, whose art sublime Gives perpetuity to time, And bids transactions of a day,
Where hast thou floated, in what seas pursued Thy pastime? when wast thou an egg new spawn'd, Lost in the immensity of ocean's waste?
My rose, Gravina, blooms anew, And steep'd not now in rain, But in Castilian streams by you,
Lord, my soul with pleasure springs, When Jesus' name I hear; And when God the Spirit brings
Come, ponder well, for 'tis no jest, To laugh it would be wrong, The troubles of a worthy priest,
I am monarch of all I survey, My right there is none to dispute; From the centre all round to the sea