In life's last stage, (O blessings rarely found!) Pleasant as youth with all its blossoms crown'd; Through every period of this changeful state Unchanged thyself—wise, good, affectionate! Marble may flatter, and lest this should seem O'ercharged with praises on so dear a theme, Although thy worth be more than half supprest, Love shall be satisfied, and veil the rest. June, 1788. ON THE QUEEN'S VISIT TO LONDON. THE NIGHT OF THE SEVENTEENTH OF MARCH,1789. By right of worth, not blood alone, Then loyalty, with all his lamps New trimm'd, a gallant show! "Twas hard to tell, of streets or squares Bright shone the roofs, the domes, the spires, To hang their momentary fires Amid the vault of heaven. So, fire with water to compare, Had all the pageants of the world In one procession join'd, And all the banners been unfurl'd For no such sight had England's queen Where George, recover'd, made a scene Sweet always, doubly sweet. Yet glad she came that night to prove, How much the object of her love Darkness the skies had mantled o'er In aid of her design Darkness, O Queen! ne'er call'd before To veil a deed of thine! On borrow'd wheels away she flies, And gratify no curious eyes That night except her own. Arrived, a night like noon she sees, As all by instinct, like the bees, Had known their sovereign come. Pleased she beheld, aloft portray'd Unlike the enigmatic line, So difficult to spell, Which shook Belshazzar at his wine The night his city fell. Soon watery grew her eyes and dim, None else, except in prayer for him, It was a scene in every part But other magic there, she knew, To raise such wonders in her view, That cordial thought her spirit cheer'd, And, through the cumbrous throng, Not else unworthy to be fear'd, Convey'd her calm along. So, ancient poets say, serene The sea-maid rides the waves, And fearless of the billowy scene Her peaceful bosom laves. With more than astronomic eyes She view'd the sparkling show; One Georgian star adorns the skies, Yet let the glories of a night Like that, once seen, suffice, Heaven grant us no such future sight, Such previous woe the price! THE COCK-FIGHTER'S GARLAND.* MUSE hide his name of whom I sing, Nor speak the school from which he drew Nor place where he was born. That such a man once was, may seem Perchance may credit win) For proof to man, what man may prove, This man (for since the howling wild *Written on reading the following in the obituary of the Gentleman's Magazine for April, 1789.-" At Tottenham, John Ardesoif, Esq., a young man of large fortune, and in the splendor of his carriages and horses rivalled by few country gentlemen. His table was that of hospitality, where, it may be said, he sacrificed too much to conviviality; but, if he had his foibles he had his merits also, that far outweighed them. Mr. A. was very fond of cock-fighting, and had a favorite cock, upon which he had won many profitable matches. The last bet he laid upon this cock he lost; which so enraged him, that he had the bird tied to a spit and roasted alive before a large fire. The screams of the miserable animal were so affecting, that some gentlemen who were present attempted to interfere, which so enraged Mr. A., that he seized a poker, and with the most furious vehemence declared, that he would kill the first man who interposed; but, in the midst of his passionate asseverations, he fell down dead upon the spot. Such, we are assured, were the circumstances which attended the death of this great pillar of humanity." Gentle he was, if gentle birth Could make him such, and he had worth, In social talk and ready jest, Methinks I see him powder'd red, The mossy rosebud not so sweet; Can such be cruel? Such can be With barbarous sports, whose fell delight "Twixt birds to battle train'd.. One feather'd champion he possess'd, Which never knew disgrace, Nor e'er had fought but he made flow It chanced at last, when on a day, He doom'd his favorite dead. |