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And fnatch from fate a finking land;
Trample th' invader's lofty creft,
And, from his grafp, the dagger wreft,
And defolating brand;

'Twas this, that raised th' illuftrious line-
To match the first in fame :

A thousand years have feen it fhine
With unabated flame;

Have feen thy mighty fires appear
Foremost in glory's high career,

The pride and pattern of the brave:
Yet, pure from luft of blood their fire,
And from ambition's wild defire ;
They triumph'd but to fave.

The mufe, with joy, attends their way

The vales of peace along ;

There, to its Lord, the village gay
Renews the grateful fong.

Yon caftle's glittering towers contain
No pit of woe, nor clanking chain,
Nor to the fuppliant's wail refound:
The open doors the needy blefs,
Th' unfriended hail their calm recefs,
And gladnefs fimiles around.

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O! yet, ere pleasure plant her snare
For unfufpecting youth;

Ere flattery her song prepare
To check the voice of truth;

O! may his country's guardian power
Attend the lumbering infant's bower,
And bright, infpiring dreams impart,
To roufe the hereditary fire,
To kindle each fublime defire,
Exalt, and warm the heart.

Swift, to reward a parent's fears,
A parent's hopes to crown,

Roll on in peace, ye blooming years,
That rear him to renown:

When, in his finifh'd form and face,
Admiring multitudes fhall trace
Each patrimonial charm combin'd;
The courteous, yet majestic mien
The liberal fmile; the look ferene ;
The great and gentle mind.

Yet, though thou draw a nation's eyes,
And win a nation's love,

Let not thy towering mind defpise

The village and the grove.

No flander, there, fhall wound thy fame;

No ruffian take his deadly aim;

No rival weave the fecret fnare:
For innocence, with angel fmile;
Simplicity, that knows not guile;
And love, and peace are there.

When winds the mountain oak affail,
And lay its glories waste,

Content may lumber in the vale,
Unconscious of the blast,

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Through fcenes of tumult while we roam,
The heart, alas! is ne'er at home;

It hopes, in time, to roam no more:
The mariner, not vainly brave,

Combats the ftorm, and rides the wave,
To reft, at last, on shore.

Ye proud! ye felfish! ye fevere!
How vain your mask of state?
The good, alone, have joy fincere ;
The good, alone, are great:
Great, when, amid the vale of peace,
They bid the plaint of forrow cease,
And hear the voice of artless praise;
As when, along the trophy'd plain,
Sublime, they lead the victor train,
While fhouting nations gaze.






EGIN, my Lord, in early youth,
To fuffer, nay, encourage truth:
And blame me not for disrespect,
If I the flatt'rer's ftyle reject.

THE tree's diftinguifh'd by the fruit:
Be virtue then, your firft purfuit:
Set your great ancestors in view:
Like them, deferve the title too.
Like them, ignoble actions fcorn:
Let virtue prove you greatly born.

THOUGH with lefs plate their fide-board fhone,

Their confcience always was their own.



They ne'er at Levees meanly fawn'd;
Nor was their honour yearly pawn'd:
Their hands, by no corruption ftain'd,
The minifterial bribe difdain'd:
They ferv'd the crown with loyal zeal
Yet, jealous of the public weal,
They stood the bulwark of our laws,
And wore at heart their country's caufe:
By neither place nor pension bought,
They spoke and voted as they thought.
Thus did your fires adorn their feat;
And fuch, alone, are truly great.

IF you the paths of learning flight,
You're but a dunce in ftronger light:
In foremoft rank, the coward, plac'd,
Is more confpicuously disgrac'd.
If you, to ferve a paltry end,
To knavish jobs can condefcend,
We pay you the contempt that's due:
In that you have precedence too.
Whence had you this illuftrious name ?
From virtue and unblemish'd fame.
By birth, the name alone defcends:
Your honour on yourfelf depends.
Think not your coronet can hide
Affuming ignorance and pride:
Learning, by study, must be won;
'Twas ne'er entail'd from fon to fon.
Superior worth your rank requires:
For that mankind reveres your fires.
If you degenerate from your race,
Their merits heighten your difgrace.

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HEN, to his glorious firft effay in war,

W New Carthage fell, there all the flower of Spain

Were kept in hoftage; a full field prefenting
For Scipio's generofity to fhine. A noble virgin,
Confpicuous far o'er all the captive dames,

Was mark'd the general's prize. She wept, and blush'd;
Young, fresh, and blooming, like the morn. An eye,
As when the blue sky trembles thro' a cloud

Of pureft white.

A fecret charm combin'd

Her features, and infus'd inchantment thro' them.
Her fhape was harmony.-But eloquence
Beneath her beauty fails; which feem'd on purpose,
By nature lavish'd on her, that mankind
Might fee the virtue of a hero tried,

Almoft beyond the ftretch of human force.
Soft as fhe pafs'd along, with downcaft eyes,
Where gentle forrow fwell'd, and, now and then,
Dropp'd o'er her modeft cheeks a trickling tear,
The Roman legions languish'd, and hard war
Felt more than pity: even their chief himself,
As on his high tribunal rais'd he fat,

Turn'd from the dang'rous fight; and, chiding, ask'd
His officers, if, by this gift, they meant

To cloud his glory in its very dawn.

SHE, queftion'd of her birth, in trembling accents,
With tears, and blushes, broken, told her tale.
But, when he found her royally defcended;
Of her old captive parents the fole joy;
And that a hapless Celtiberian prince,


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