Imatges de pàgina
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Hence

Vernon's little fleet fucceeds,

And hence the gen'rous + Cornwall bleeds, Hence Grenville glorious !-for she smil'd On the young hero from a child.

Tho' in high life fuch virtues dwell,
They'll fuit plebeian breasts as well.
Say, that the mighty and the great
Blaze like meridian fons of state ;
Effulgent excellence difplay,
Like Halifax in floods of day;
Our leffer orbs may pour their light,

Like the mild crefcent of the night.

Tho' pale our beams, and small our sphere,

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Still we may fhine ferene and clear.

Give to the judge the fcarlet gown, To martial fouls the civic crown: What then? Is merit their's alone? Have we no worth to call our own? i

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+ Against the combin'd fleets of France and Spain.. Died in a later engagement of the French fleet.

Shall

Shall we not vindicate our part,

In the firm breaft, and upright heart?
Reader, these virtues may be thine,
Tho' in fuperior life they shine.

I can't discharge great Hardwicke's trust-
True-but my foul may still be just;
And tho' I can't the ftate defend,
I'll draw the fword to fave my friend.

Two golden virtues are behind,
Of equal import to the mind.
PRUDENCE to point out wisdom's way,
Or to reclaim us when we ftray;
TEMP'RANCE to guard the youthful heart,
When VICE and FOLLY throw the dart ;
Each virtue, let the world agree,
Daily refides with you and me.

And when our fouls in friendship join,
We'll deem the focial bond divine;
Thro' ev'ry scene maintain our trust,
Nor e'er be timid or unjust.

That breaft, where honour builds his throne,
That breaft, which virtue calls her own,

Nar

Nor int'reft warps, nor fear appalls,
When danger frowns or lucre calls;
Let int'reft plead and ftorms arife,
He dares be honest tho' he dies!

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THE HERMIT.*

TURN, gentle hermit of the dale,
And guide my lonely way,

• To where yon taper cheers the vale,
• With hospitable ray.

For here, forlorn and loft, I tread • With fainting fteps and flow; • Where wilds, immeafurably spread, • Seem length'ning as I go.'

Forbear, my fon,' the hermit cries,
"To tempt the dang'rous gloom;
For yonder phantom only flies
"To lure thee to thy doom.

Here to the houfelefs child of want
My door is open ftill;

And tho' my portion is but fcant,
I give it with good will.

* Written by Dr. Goldsmith.

• Then

• Then turn to-night, and freely share

Whate'er my cell beftows,

My rufhy couch, and frugal fare,

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:

No flocks that range the valley free,
• To flaughter I condemn
Taught by that Pow'r that pities me,
I learn to pity them.

But from the mountain's graffy fide,
A guiltless feast I bring;

A fcrip with herbs and fruits fupply'd,
And water from the fpring.

• Then pilgrim turn, thy cares forego;
• For earth-born cares are wrong:
Man wants but little here below,
Nor wants that little long.'

Soft as the dew from heav'n defcends,
His gentle accents fell;

The grateful ftranger lowly bends,
And follows to the cell.

Far

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