ANOTHER. ADDRESSED TO A YOUNG LADY. SWEET stream, that winds through yonder glade, Apt emblem of a virtuous maid— Silent and chaste she steals along, Far from the world's gay busy throng; With gentle yet prevailing force, SONG ON PEACE. AIR-" My fond shepherds of late," &c. No longer I follow a sound; No longer a dream I pursue; I have sought thee in splendour and dress, The voice of true Wisdom inspires; "Tis sufficient, if Peace be the scope And the summit of all our desires. Peace may be the lot of the mind That seeks it in meekness and love: But rapture and bliss are confined To the glorified spirits above. SONG. AIR-" The Lass of Patie's Mill.” WHEN all within is peace, How nature seems to smile! Delights that never cease, The livelong day beguile. With open hand she showers It is content of heart Gives nature power to please; Seem bright as smiling May, And evening's closing eye The vast majestic globe, So beauteously array'd A dreary wild at best; It flutters to depart, And longs to be at rest. ON THE LOSS OF THE ROYAL GEORGE. Written when the News arrived, SEPT. 1782. To the March in Scipio. TOLL for the brave! The brave that are no more! Eight hundred of the brave, A land breeze shook the shrouds, Toll for the brave! Brave Kempenfelt is gone; No tempest gave the shock; She sprang no fatal leak; His sword was in its sheath; His fingers held the pen, When Kempenfelt went down, With twice four hundred men. Weigh the vessel up, Once dreaded by our foes! The tear that England owes. Her timbers yet are sound, Full charged with England's thunder, But Kempenfelt is gone, His victories are o'er; And he and his eight hundred Shall plough the wave no more. SONNET TO WM. WILBERFORCE, ESQ. 1792. THY Country, Wilberforce, with just disdain, Hears thee by cruel men and impious call'd Fanatic, for thy zeal to loose the' enthrall'd From exile, public sale, and slavery's chain. Friend of the poor, the wrong'd, the fetter-gall'd, Fear not lest labour such as thine be vain. Thou hast achieved a part; hast gain'd the ear And weave delay, the better hour is near By peace for Afric, fenced with British laws. Enjoy what thou hast won, esteem and love From all the Just on earth and all the Bless'd above. SONNET TO HENRY COWPER, ESQ. ON HIS EMPHATICAL AND INTERESTING DELIVERY OF THE DEFENCE OF WARREN HASTINGS, ESQ. IN THE HOUSE OF LORDS. COWPER, whose silver voice, task'd sometimes Legends prolix delivers in the ears [hard, (Attentive when thou read'st) of England's peers, Let verse at length yield thee thy just reward. Both heart and head: and couldst with music SONNET TO JOHN JOHNSON. ON HIS PRESENTING ME WITH AN ANTIQUE BUST OF HOMER. 1793. KINSMAN beloved, and as a son, by me! |