Truth on his fide, he bray'd the rifing storm,
Nor malice fear'd, nor envy's haggard form.
Oft with delight upon his lips I've hung,
When wildom's truths flow'd nervous from
his tongue;

Or when his pious foul was fir'd with zeal,
He feem'd t'impart the flame himself did feel;
He taught a devious age the fear of God,
The ways of justice, mercy, which he trod.
Firm was his faith, unshaken as a rock,
Bravely he bore misfortune's rudest shock :
When fad disease, the herald pale of death,
Attack'd his better self, and feiz'd her breath;
When not the healing art her life could fave,
But fell a victim to the untimely grave;
With Christian patience, and with foul
refin'd,

Silent, the darling of his breaft refign'd;
From grief of vulgar minds he foar'd above,
And calmly view'd the cyprefs garland

TO THE LADIES,

On the Succefs of Mr. DAVISON's revived PALMYRENE SOAP.

Davifen once urg'd his Queen to fign A Herfatal entence on a rutin ditine, Yet, fure, that victim's face, ador'd by all, With mightier impulfe fped her hapless fall

To keep awhile fuch Graces from the tomb To fix their fleeting fnows, their tranfient bloom,

Our modern Davifon from Syria's plains His bright Restoratives of Beauty drains, 'Tis his to change (the veil of Time withdrawn)

Life's clouded evening to its purple dawn, And, spite of Sorrow's wafte, or Youth's decay,

Recall the funfhine of our vernal day.

For this, Palmyra' gloomy vaults explor`d, A long-loft treafure yields it's ample hoardi And Davi on, exulting, joys to bear Zenub a's arts to grace the Brith fair.

No pois nous unguent here, with styptic [flower;

power, Shrinks the parch d forehead like a rivel'd No acid wash with treach'rous skill prepar`d, Corrodes the bofom it pretends to guard, While rakes abhorrent view, by morning's light,

The faded partners of their guilty night,
For tints more chafte to Davifon's repair,
There Heth refides, and Hymen triumphs

there.

His fafe Cofmetics genial force retain,
Foint, the dull glance, and clear th' incum-
ber'd vein;

On Cloe's hand innoxious fapphires fpread,
And tinge her cheeks with falutary red.
Such aids the ball, the romp. the kits defy,
Nor drop their enfigns till their leaders die.

If wealth like thus your Davifen imports, Ye Brijk Dames, to you his hope reforts! Let your foft voice his Eaftern fores proclaim, Exalt their merits, and protect their fame. Nor think your praise the living only know→→→ Its magic influence rules the world below. While Syria's spoils your growing charms adorn,

Her vanquith'd heroine shall no longer mourn, Palmyra thus fhall think her wrongs o'erpaid, And added glory crown Zenobia's thade,

VERSES fuggefted by the Seafon of the Year.

THOU

P. H.

HOU who, to heaven lifting thy golden
brow,

Ey'ft, unabafh', the glorious orb of day,
I praife thee not; I hate th' unblufhing front.
But ever let me tell your humbler worth,
Ye fimple fuow-drops, firftlings of the year,
Fairest of flowers, sweet harbingers offpring!
How meekly do you hang your filvery heads,
Like maidens coyly stealing from the view!
E'en fo, upon the ground, her modest eye,
That fears to meet the irreverent gaze of man,
Beauty unconfcions bends; and fo, more pure
Than are your fnow-white forms, Sophia
ftrives

To hide thofe charms, how matchlefs! from the world.

P. H.

On the death and burial of Mr. SLEECH, Archdeacon of Crnwall. (See p. 180.)

ARKI the bell, with folemn found,

Hsinging, makes the vaulted ground.

The priest, array'd in fnowy veft,
Commits him to eternal reft;
Him, who oft in temperate joy
Did the focial hour employ;
Him, who lately chearful bleft
The coming and the going guest ;
Him, but huh!--he is no more:
Seek him on the heavenly fhore;
There, as when on earth, his mind
Joys in the welfare of mankind.
There his charity and love,
Borne on the wings of Mercy's dove
To the facred prefence, fire
His glowing foul with strong defire

To the great Almighty King
Hallelujah aye to fing.

Bereft of children and of wife,

He linger'd thro' the vale of life: Meek and refign'd he kiss'd the rod,

Obedient to the will of God.

嗨

My Friend! my Father! oh! that name

Infpires me with a facred flame!

Ah! Charles, companion of my youth,
Type of benevolence and truth,
To thee thy reverend father flies,
And, thee I remembering, pleas'd he dies.
No pain difturb'd his parting breath;
No pang of grief embitter'd death.
Eafy, as if afleep, he lay,

And mingled with th' unconfcions clay;
No guile he knew: his heart was free
From thy vile mask, Hypocrify.
The Chriftian faith, with cherub grace,
Shone on his open, honeft face.
Hence Piety, with grateful praife,
Shall trophies to his memory raise :
And in the fane of virtuous Fame
Adorn the marble with his name.
The general favourite and friend,
Such honours must await his end;
The honours of the chofen few;
Honours to him how juftly due!
Mr. S. and Mr.
markably like.

+ Mr S --'s fon.

+

C. B.

were

re

Calumque

Afpicit, et dulces moriens reminifcitur Argos.

D'

VIRG.

Duris urgens in rebus egeflas. VIRG.
ISBANDED from his fubteranean toil,
See the poor Miner leave his native
feil.

Regardless of himself, he does explore
The various dangers of a diftant fhore.
Yet the dear ties of fweet domestic life,
The orphan infant, and the widow'd wife,
Rush on his thoughts, his firm refolve con-

troul,

Daunt his hold fpirit, and unman his foul. For them he weeps; and, pierc'd with anxi

ous care,

Heaves the deep figh of fupplicating prayer.
Pity, Opity, his unworthy lot!

Protect his family, and screen his cot!
For he ne'er revel'd in vain Pleafure's bower;
Nor wifh'd to scale Ambition's airy tower.
He was content, if, by his labour fped,
His little household fhar'd his fcanty bread.
Content, in fpight of Hunger's craving call,
His pittance to forego, and give them all.
Smiling in want, on his hard couch reclin'd,
To flumber he compos'd his weary mind:
And, while he lull'd his Catharine to reft,
Sunk unrepining on her faithful breast.
Pity, O pity, his unworthy lot!
Protect his family, and fcreen his cot.
Cornswall, Feb. 14.

C. B.

To

To the Rev. Mr. PEGGE, Editor of "The Forme of Cury," &c. &c.

M

OST werthy Sir! how I revere
Your name, and vary'd character!
Whether, yclad in fable vest.
You do the office of the Priest,
And Chriftian myfteries unfold,
Producing things both new and old;
(As Chrift has drawn the character
Of the good fcribe and householder)
While all your lift'ning flock rejoice,
For well they know their fhepherd's voice :
Or whether I your merits view,
As fcholar, and as critic too!

With what rare talents you explain,
Or Learning facred, or profane!
Alike yread in modern page,
Or reliques of remotest age!
You range the fields of fcience o'er,
And each neglected nook explore:
Nor fatisfied to fhare the toil
Of bringing home the gen'ral spoil,
Unweary'd you repeat your round
To try what gleanings may be found,
And many a handful you prefent
Of fragments rare, and choice content;
Which but for industry your own
Had lain unnotic'd, and unknown.

Hail once more, Sir! May health attend
On You-and Brander your good friend!
Who with joint kindness have combin'd
To teach us how our fathers din'd:
All in "The Forme of Cury" told,
As us'd in Richard's days of old;
When Cury, as it then was ftyl'd,
With wife avisement is compil'd.

Ever, for fervices like thefe,
May choifeft meres and potages
Attend your board! and, Master Pegge
(To whom I humbly make my leg,)
Oh! that it were in Cury's powers
To lengthen out a life like yours!
I'm fure I'd fearch, with anxious care,
From end to end, the Bill of Fare2;
Happy, if poflible, the Mefs-
Wherein the fecret lay to guefs.

And, fhould I miss it, I would try
How I might beft its place fupply,
And ftrive your appetite to please,
With ftranger meats, or fatleties 3.
Befides a Cullis 4 there fhould be
That special dish called Mawmenee 5 :
(The Capons broren, and Fefants-these,
With my own fingers I would tryfe;
And for the Grece 6, and Sugar too,
It should be white I promife you.)
Lampreys likewife in galyntyne 7;
And Ypecbras fhould be your wine.
The Veel or Moton, as you like,
I would myself to goberts ftrike;

Richard II. 2 Table of Contents.
3 The defert.

4 An invigorating broth. See Preface.
5 See engraved plate and XX. 6 N° XX. L
7 XX. VI. VI. • XX. IX. XL

rebel;

9 See Preface.

And 'tis a creature's happieft ftate to feel,
Endlefs difcovery fresh joys reveal:
And did not Hope creation wide inveft,
The mind would torpid grow, and pine de-
prefs'd.

Then just it is, and rational, to deem
As mean andlow each fyftem'd bigots fcheme,
That dare with impious freedom to declare
His mode of being, what his pow'r, and where!
And proof enough, where error leads the way,
What God is not, not what he is, to fay:
What here to us may much concern the foul,
More than before, above, or through the
whole.

Yet Reason prompts,-'Tis Piety's fair aim, Divine perfection ever to proclain, The Sov'reign good-The univerfal mind, Mov'd by no paflion, to no parts confin'd; Without beginning, and whofe perfect state Mocks all reftriction to each time-ftretch'd date;

Who neither equal nor companion knows, Thro' Nature's walks, nor where pure Ether flows;

Whofe favour's unrestrain'd to any race
Of mortals, partial to a point of space :
But all fuftains from his exhaustless store,
Who ne'er was lefs, nor ever shall be more.
WILLIAM HAMILTON REID.

W

ON SOLITUDE. HILE Cary* ftrikes the glowing lyre, And fings a mighty warrior's fame, Or breathes to Love a gentler fire, In fweetest praife of Laura's name; Thee, Queen of fober thought, I hail,

Averie to Folly's empty dream, 'Tis thine to wander through the vale, Or mufe along with murm'ring ftream. Fair Wisdom lends her foft'ring aid, With flowers to deck thy hallow'd feat, Where Contemplation, sphere-born maid, And Fancy's fairy train retreat, Beneath pale Cynthia's filvery ray,

When fleep affumes his filent reign, Through darkfome dells I'll take my way, Where Progné pours her plaintive strain. Sweet bird! whofe wildly-warbled lay

Soft dies along the curling breeze, While huddling brooks meandering stray, And whispering Zephyrs fann the trees Ah! how I feel thy pleafing power,

As oft I view the church-yard's gloom,
Where, in the fairy-haunted-hour,

Wan fprights forfake the delved tomb.
When Phoebus fires the azure vault,
Sequefter'd in the breezy bower,
I'll read the page with learning fraught,
And wifely live "paft ages o'er."
Thus lonely in fome fould'ring cell
I'd far retire from bufy life,
Whereno Ambition's mystic spell

Should break my peaceful hours with ftrife.

The Author of an Ode on General Eliott, lately published.

W

WHY were thy tender years to rich in
hope?

Leading thy parent's rapid prophecy
On thro' the worth of a long future life?
Through lovely youth, winning all hearts to
bless thee-

Up to the charities of graver years, [Freal,
Where thine, high-principled, the Wife, the
The Mother, giving mirth and good around,
E'en to the mildness of thy pious hours
In age, their fond prophetic fpirit ran-
Ah! how in vain -Death midit her gam-
bols walk'd,

And fternly pointed to an early tomb.

Ye who rejoice in equal pride of hope, "Rejoice with trembling"-Ye, who Anna's form

And fprightlieft innocence have seen, forget How cold her grave below; while to the hoft [holds her.

Of ministring Angels gather'd, "Faith be

HYMN FOR CHARITY CHILDREN. any pity dwell on earth,

I

If any cries can call it forth,
Let helpless Youth for fuccour plead,
And bid, ah bid our with fucceed!

No crimes of ours have brought us low,
Our age too tender, crimes to know;
But, born in ftern Misfortune's frown,
With iron arm the keeps us down.
Nor deem the Wretch defpis'd by God.
Our rugged path the best have trod;
The Son of God himself has faid,
He found no place to lay his head.
Oh, for his fake compaffion fhew!
In gratitude one mite beftow!
He bids us hope, He bids us fue,

Even He, that pleads in Heaven for you.