Beneath his rod his milder virtues scan,

Revere the magistrate, and love the man.

Say, what bespeaks the Monarch truly great?
Not that he sits enthron'd in regal state,

Not that a crowd of vassals bend the knee,
Not all the pomp, the pride of royalty;

There is, will grace his name with more renown
Than jewel'd diadem or ermin'd gown;
'Tis Mercy! With his sceptre he may awe,
May shew his temp'ral pow'r, enforce his law

"But Mercy is above this scepter'd sway *,'

And sheds around his throne a more than earthly ray.

O! Thou, first sent with heav'n's benignant smile, And still preserv'd to bless this favour'd Isle;

* MERCHANt of Venice.

Whose gentle sway, through fifty arduous years,

A grateful people's gen'ral voice reveres * ;
Here let a bard unvers'd in flatt'ry's art,

Whose language knows no prompter but his heart,

While he to Mercy strikes the feeble string,

Hold up

her brightest model in his King!

Shed o'er his humble page a borrow'd fame,

And give it force by adding GEORGE's Name.

Belov'd, admir'd, rever'd in ev'ry age,

The man's first boast, the Christian's truest badge,
O! Mercy, come! within my bosom dwell,

Each vengeful wish, each ranc'rous thought dispel;

+ Alluding to the general Jubilee. Of course therefore these lines were written previous to the present afflicting malady of an excellent and venerable Sovereign. Although to human eyes little hope remains, may it yet please the divine Healer of every infirmity to "raise him from his bed of sickness and of affliction, to sooth his parental cares, to restore him to his family and to his people!"

Teach me to banish ev'ry selfish care,

Let ev'ry one alike my pity share;

Teach me, sweet Goddess, at thy tender call

To view my fellows' woes, and viewing feel for all!

A

TRIBUTE TO A MODERN PATRIOT *.

Quo teneam vultus mutantem Protea nodo?

Say with what bonds † you'll hold this Proteus fast.

Hang you trust you!

With every minute you do change a mind,

And call him noble that was now your hate;

Him vile that was your garland.

HORACE.

CORIOLANUS.

O! THOU, whatever name thou aimest most at,

Patriot, deserter, libeller, apostate,

* In the following lines nothing is advanced concerning the versatile talents of their subject, which a reference to his own works will not establish.

+ Quo nodo? Literally-with what knot? There are, who would recommend for the purpose a certain hempen knot; the knot à la Ketch.

C

all hail! whose bold licentious page,

The blazing fire-brand of a sluggish age,

Brandish'd by thee with patriotick ire,

Nobly essays to light sedition's fire;

Whose rhet❜rick strong bids t-n's hopes revive, Tells wretched Englishmen what slaves they live;

And in their dull cold ears unceasing rings

How mean to crouch to ministers and kings.

'Tis true, Detraction (that malignant shrew
Which always doth the great and good pursue)
May bluntly ev'ry pregnant line assail,
And say that once you told a diff'rent tale!
That once as loudly you maintain❜d the cause
Of monarchs, princes, ministers and laws;
D-nd demagogues, and rais'd a wordy storm
'Gainst Revolution, Riot and Reform;