V.

TH

THE bell ftrikes one.- -We take no note of time,
But from its lofs. To give it then a tongue,
Is wife in man.
As if an angel spoke,

I feel the folemn found. If heard aright,

It is the knell of my departed hours.

Where are they?-With the years beyond the flood.
It is the fignal that demands dispatch.

How much is to be done! My hopes, and fears,
Start up alarm'd; and, o'er life's narrow verge,
Look down-on what?-A fathomlefs abyfs!,
A dread eternity!-

How poor, how rich, how abject, how auguft,
How complicate, how wonderful, is man!
How paffing wonder, He, who made him fuch!
Who centured in our make such strange extremes!
From diff'rent natures marvellously mixt!
Connexion exquifite of diftant worlds!
Distinguish'd link in being's endless chain!
Mid-way from nothing to the Deity!
A beam ethereal, fully'd and abforpt!
Though fully'd and difhonour'd, ftill divine!
Dim miniature of greatnefs abfolute !
An heir of glory! A frail child of dust !
Helpless immortal! Infect infinite!

?

A worm! A God !—I tremble at myself !-
What can preferve my life? or, what destroy
An angel's arm can't fnatch me from the grave,
Legions of angels can't confine me there.

VI.

SOLILOQUY AND PRAYER OF EDWARD THE BLACK PRINCE, BEFORE THE BATTLE OF POITIERS.

T

HE hour advances, the decifive hour,

That lifts me to the fummit of renown,
Or leaves me on the earth a breathless corfe.
The buzz and buftle of the field before me;
The twang of bow-ftrings, and the clash of spears;
With ev'ry circumftance of preparation;
Strike with an awful horror!-Shouts are echo'd,
To drown difmay, and blow up refolution
Ev'n to its utmoft fwell.-From hearts fo firm,
Whom dangers fortify, and toils inspire,
What has a leader not to hope?—And, yet,
The weight of apprehenfion finks me down.-
"O, Soul of Nature! great eternal caufe!
"Who gave, and govern'ft all, that's here below!
"Tis by the aid of thy almighty arm

"The weak exift, the virtuous are fecure.

"If, to your facred laws obedient ever,

"My fword, my foul, have owned no other guide; "Oh! if your honour, if the rights of men,

My country's happiness, my king's renown, "Were motives worthy of a warrior's zeal,

"Crown your poor fervant with fuccefs this day: "And be the praise and glory all thy own."

VII.

THE COUNTRY SCHOOL MASTER,

BESIDE yon ftraggling fence, that skirts the way

With bloffom'd furze, unprofitably gay,
There, in his noify manfion, fkill'd to rule,
The village-mafter taught his little school.-
A man severe he was, and ftern to view :
I knew him well; and every truant knew.
Well had the bodying tremblers learnt to trace
The day's difafters in his morning face:
Full well they laugh'd, with counterfeited glee,
At all his jokes-for many a joke had he:
Full well the bufy whisper, circling round,
Convey'd the difmal tidings, when he frown'd.
Yet he was kind; or, if fevere in aught,
The love he bore to learning was in fault.
The village all declar'd how much he knew.
"Twas certain he could write-and cypher too:
Lands he could measure; terms and tides prefage
And, even the flory ran, that he could-gauge.
In arguing too, the parfon own'd his skill;

ftill:

For, ev'n though vanquifh'd, he could argue
While words of learned length and thund'ring found,
Amaz'd the gazing ruftics rang'd around;
-And ftill they gazed, and still the wonder grew,
That one fmall head-could carry all he knew.

F

AST by the margin of a moffy rill,

That wander'd, gurgling, down a heath-clad hill, An ancient fhepherd ftood, opprefs'd with woe, And ey'd the ocean's flood that fum❜d below; Where; gently rocking, on the rifing tide, A fhip's unwonted form was feen to ride. Unwonted, well I ween, for ne'er before Had touch'd one keel the folitary shore; Nor had the fwain's rude footsteps ever ftray'd, Beyond the shelter of his native fhade. His few remaining hairs were filver gray, And his rough face-had feen a better day. Around him, bleating, ftrayed a fcanty flock; And a few goats o'erhung the neighbouring rock. One faithful dog his forrows feemed to fhare, And ftrove with many a trick, to ease his care. While o'er his furrow'd cheek, the falt drops ran, He tun'd his ruftic reed, and thus began.

"FAREWELL! Farewell! dear Caledonia's ftrand; Rough though thou be, yet ftill my native land: Exil'd from thee, I seek a foreign fhore, Friends, kindred, country, to behold no more. By hard oppreffion driven, my helpless age, That fhould, e'er now, have left life's bustling ftage, Is forc'd the ocean's boist'rous breast to brave, In a far diftant land to feek a grave.

"THOU dear companion of my happier life, Now to the grave gone down, my virtuous wife!

'Twas

'Twas here you rear'd, with fond maternal pride,
Five comely fons: three for their country died;
Two yet remain, fad remnant of the wars,
Without one.mark of honour-but their scars.
Contented ftill we rear'd, with fturdy hands,
The fcanty produce of our niggard lands;
Scant as it was, no more our hearts defir'd;
Nor more from us, our generous lord requir'd.

"BUT ah, fad change! those bleffed days are o'er,
And peace, content, and fafety, charm no more:
Another lord now rules these wide domains,
The avaricious tyrant of the plains.
Far, far from hence, he revels life away,
In guilty pleasure our poor means must pay.
The moffy plains, the mountains barren brow,
Muft now be tortur'd by the tearing plough,
And, fpite of nature, crops be taught to rise,
Which, to these northern climes, wife heav'n denies,
"ON you, dear native land! from whence I part,
Reft the best bleffing-of a broken heart.

If, in fome future hour, the foe fhall land
His hoftile legions on Britannia's ftrand,.
May the not, then, th' alarum. found in vain,
Nor mifs, her banish'd thousands on the plain.
"FEED on, my fheep: for though depriv'd of me,
My cruel foes fhall your protectors be;

For their own fakes, fhall pen your ftraggling flocks,
And fave your lamkins from the rav'nous fox.

"FEED on, my goats: another now shall drain
Your ftreams, that heal disease, and foften pain.
No ftream, alas.! thall ever, ever flow,
To heal thy mafter's heart, or footh his woe.

"BUT, hark! my fons loud call me from the vale And, lo! the veffel fpreads her fwelling fail

9

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