The great and small but rarely meet On terms of amity complete; Plebeians must surrender, Some are so placid and serene Unmoved and without quaking. Without an effervescence, Religion should extinguish strife, But friends that chance to differ On points which God has left at large, How fiercely will they meet and charge! No combatants are stiffer. To prove at last my main intent Sometimes the fault is all our own, Some blemish in due time made known By trespass or omission : Sometimes occasion brings to light Our friend'sdefect,long hidfrom sight, And even from suspicion. Then judge yourself, and prove your man As circumspectly as you can, And, having made election, Beware no negligence of yours, Such as a friend but ill endures, Enfeeble his affection. That secrets are a sacred trust, That friends should be sincere and just, That constancy befits them, Are observations on the case, That savour much of common place, And all the world admits them. But 'tis not timber, lead, and stone, An architect requires alone To finish a fine buildingThe palace were but half complete, If he could possibly forget The carving and the gilding. The man that hails you Tom or Jack, And proves by thumps upon your back How he esteems your merit, Is such a friend, that one had need Be very much his friend indeed To pardon or to bear it. As similarity of mind, Or something not to be defined, First fixes our attention; So manners decent and polite, The same we practised at first sight, Must save it from declension. Some act upon this prudent plan, Say little, and hear all you can.' Safe policy, but hateful 66 So barren sands imbibe the shower, But render neither fruit nor flower, Unpleasant and ungrateful. The man I trust, if shy to me, A spy on my proceeding. These samples-for alas! at last However well intention'd. Pursue the search, and you will find And, after summing all the rest, And, whether being crazed or blind, Have not, it seems, discern'd it. THE COLUBRIAD.* CLOSE by the threshold of a door nail'd fast At the three kittens cast a careless eye, Not much concern'd to know what they did there, But presently a loud and furious hiss Caused me to stop, and to exclaim, "What's this ?" With head erect, and eyes of fiery hue, A viper, long as Count de Grasse's queue.† Forth from his head his forked tongue he throws, Who having never seen in field or house Only projecting with attention due, Her whisker'd face, she ask'd him, " Who are you ?" On to the hall went I, with pace not slow, But swift as lightning, for a long Dutch hoe, With which, well-arm'd, I hasten'd to the spot, To find the viper,—but I found him not. * "Colubriad" is a mock heroic title from Coluber, a viper or snake. + Count de Grasse was the French admiral defeated by Rodney, April 12th, 1782. He was famous for wearing a long queue turned up, and tied with ribbon. It was exaggerated in the caricatures of the day. And, turning up the leaves and shrubs around, 66 Sat watching close the bottom of the door. With outstretch'd hoe I slew him at the door, EPITAPH ON A HARE. HERE lies, whom hound did ne'er | And, when his juicy salads fail'd, dew, Nor ear heard huntsman's halloo; Old Tiney, surliest of his kind, Who, nursed with tender care, And to domestic bounds confined, Was still a wild Jack hare. Though duly from my hand he took, His pittance every night, And milk, and oats, and straw; With sand to scour his maw. On twigs of hawthorn he regaled, On pippins' russet peel, Sliced carrot pleased him well. A Turkey carpet was his lawn, And swing his rump around. His frisking was at evening hours, Eight years and five round rolling But now beneath his walnut shade | He, still more agèd, feels the shocks Till gentler Puss shall come. Must soon partake his grave. TOLL for the brave! WRITTEN WHEN THE NEWS ARRIVED.* TO THE MARCH IN SCIPIO. The brave that are no more! All sunk beneath the wave, Fast by their native shore! Eight hundred of the brave, Whose courage well was tried, Had made the vessel heel, And laid her on her side. A land-breeze shook the shrouds, Brave Kempenfelt is gone; No tempest gave the shock; She sprang no fatal leak; Weigh the vessel up, Once dreaded by our foes! And mingle with our cup The tear that England owes. Her timbers yet are sound, And she may float again Full chargedwith England's thunder, His victories are o'er; And he and his eight hundred *The Royal George, 108 guns, was lost off Spithead, on the 29th of August. 1782. She was undergoing some repairs and was careened over, when a sudden gust of wind overset her and she sank. A great number of persons were on board at the time from Portsmouth. Two or three hundred bodies floated on shore, and were buried in Kingston Churchyard. IN SUBMERSIONEM NAVIGII CUI, GEORGIUS REGALE NOMEN, INDITUM. PLANGIMUS fortes. Periêre fortes, Navis, innitens lateri, jacebat, Plangimus fortes. Nimis, heu, caducam Fortibus vitem voluêre parcæ, Non hyems illos furibunda mersit, Navitæ sed tum nimium jocosi Vos, quibus cordi est grave opus piumque, Humidum ex alto spolium levate, Et putrescentes sub aquis amicos Reddite amicis ! Hi quidem (sic dîs placuit) fuêre: Magne, qui nomen, licet incanorum Sed ratis, nondum putris, ire possit Traditum ex multis atavis tulisti! At tuos olim memorabit ævum Omne triumphos. Rursus in bellum, Britonumque ODE TO PEACE. COME, peace of mind, delightful The great, the gay, shall they partake guest! Return and make thy downy nest We therefore need not part. Where wilt thou dwell, if not with The Heaven that thou alone canst make ? And wilt thou quit the stream The grove, and the sequestered shed, Whate'er I loved before, "Farewell! we meet no more"? |