Where, still the woe of others to beguile,

Is e'en the gayest heart's most loved employ; Where Grief herself will generously smile Through her own tears, to share another's joy!

T. MOORE.

ON AMBITION.

THE mariner, when first he sails,
While his bold oars the sparkling surface sweep,
With new delight transported, hails
The blue expanded skies and level deep.

Such young Ambition's fearless aim,
Pleased with the gorgeous scene of wealth and
In the gay morn of early fame, [power,

Nor thinks of evening storm and gloomy hour.

Life's opening views bright charms reveal, Feed the fond wish, and fan the youthful fire; But woes unknown those charms conceal, And fair illusions cheat our fierce desire.

There Envy shows her sullen mien,

With changeful colour, grinning smiles of hate;
There Malice stabs, with rage serene;

In deadly silence treacherous Friendships wait.
High on a mountain's lofty brow,

Mid clouds and storms, has Glory fix'd her seat;
Rock'd by the roaring winds that blow,

The lightnings blast it, and the tempests beat.

Within the sun-gilt vale beneath

[dwells,

More moderate Hope with sweet Contentment
While gentler breezes round them breathe,
And softer showers refresh their peaceful cells.

To better genius ever blind,

That points to each in varied life his share,
Man quits the path by Heaven design'd,
To search for bliss among the thorns of care.

Our native powers we scorn to know;
With steadfast error still the wrong pursue;
Instruct our forward ills to grow,

While sad successes but our pain renew.

In vain Heaven tempers life with sweet, With flowers the way that leads us home bestrews, If dupes to passion and deceit,

We drink the bitter and the rugged choose.

Few can on Grandeur's stage appear, Each lofty part with true applause sustain; No common virtue safe can steer,

Where rocks unnumber'd lurk beneath the main.

Then happiest he whose timely hand To cool Discretion has the helm resign'd; Enjoys the calm, in sight of land,

From changing tides secure, and trustless wind.

MARRIOTT.

TO PEACE.

SHE comes, benign enchantress, heaven-born Peace,

With mercy beaming in her radiant eye!She bids the horrid din of battle cease,

And at her glance the savage passions die! "Tis Nature's festival; let Earth rejoice;

Vanquish'd and conqueror pour exulting songs; In distant regions, with according voice, [longs! Let Man the victory bless-its prize to Man be

Resistless Freedom-when she nerves the arm, No vulgar triumph crowns the hero's might; She, she alone can spread a moral charm

O'er War's fell deeds, and sanctify the fight! Oh Gallia, in this bright immortal hour

How proud a trophy binds thy laurel'd brow! Republic, hail, whose independent power

All Earth contested once, all Earth confesses now!

Protecting spirits of the glorious dead,

Ah! not in vain the hero's noble toil, Ah, not in vain the patriot's blood is shed,— That blood shall consecrate his native soil! Illustrious names to history's record dear, And breathed when some high impulse fires the bard,

For you shall Virtue pour the glowing tearAnd your remember'd deeds shall still your country guard!

And thou, loved Britain, my parental isle,
Secure encircled by thy subject waves,
Thou land august, where Freedom rear'd her pile,
While gothic Night obscured a world of slaves;
Thy genius, that indignant heard the shock

Of frantic combat-(strife unmeet for thee!) Now views, triumphant, from his seagirt rock, Thee unsubdued alone; for thou alone wert free!

Oh, happy thy misguided efforts fail'd,

My country, when with tyrant hosts combined! Oh, hideous conquest, had thy sword prevail'd And crown'd the' impious league against man

kind!

Thou nurse of great design, of lofty thought,
What homicide, had thy insensate rage
Effaced the sacred lesson thou hadst taught,
And with thy purest blood inscribed on Glory's
page!

Ah, rather haste to Concord's holy shrine,
Ye rival nations-haste with joy elate;
Your blending garlands round her altar twine,
And bind the wounds of no immortal hate :
Go, breathe responsive rituals o'er the sod
Where Freedom's martyrs press an early grave;
Go, vow that never shall their turf be trod

By the polluting step of tyrant or of slave!

And from your shores the abject Vices chase— That low Ambition generous souls disdain, Corruption blasting every moral grace,

Servility that kneels to bless his chain! Oh Liberty, those demons far remove :

Come, nymph, severely good, sublimely great; Nor to the' enraptured hope of mortals prove Like those illusive dreams that pass the ivory gate!

New age, that rollest o'er man thy dawning year,
Ah, sure all happy omens hail thy birth;
Sure whiter annals in thy train appear,

And purer glory cheers the gladden'd Earth.
Like the young eagle, when his steadfast glance
Meets the full sunbeam in his upward flight,
So thou shalt with majestic step advance,
And fix thy dauntless eye on Liberty and Light!

1801.

H. M. WILLIAMS.

TO MANKIND.

Is there, or do the schoolmen dream,
Is there on earth a power supreme,
The delegate of Heaven?

To whom an uncontrol'd command,
In every realm o'er sea and land,
By special grace is given?

Then say, what signs this god proclaim?
Dwells he amid the diamond's flame,
A throne his hallow'd shrine?
The borrow'd pomp, the arm'd array,
Want, Fear, and Impotence betray:
Strange proofs of power divine!

If service due from humankind,
To men in slothful ease reclined,
Can form a sovereign's claim;
Hail, monarchs! ye whom Heaven ordains,
Our toils unshared, to share our gains,
Ye idiots, blind and lame!

Superior virtue, wisdom, might
Create and mark the ruler's right,
So reason must conclude:
Then thine it is, to whom belong
The wise, the virtuous, and the strong,
Thrice sacred multitude!

In thee, vast ALL! are these contain❜d,
For thee are those, thy parts, ordain'd,