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"But now, to my forfaken track,
"Fair Egremont has brought you back:
"Nor bluth, by her and Virtue led,
"That foft, that pleafing path, to tread;
"For there, beneath to-morrow's ray,
"Ev'n Wisdom's felf fhall deign to play.
"Lo to my flowery groves and fprings
Her favourite fon the goddefs brings,
The council's and the fenate's guide,
"Law's oracle, the nation's pride:
"He comes, he joys with thee to join,

In finging Wyndham's charms divine:
"To thine he adds his nobler lays;
"Ev'n thee, my friend, he deigns to praife.
Enjoy that praife, nor envy Pitt

His fame with burgefs or with cit; "For fure one line from fuch a Bard, "Virtue would, think her beft reward."


MADAM, before your feet I lay

This ode upon your wedding-day,

The firft indeed I ever made,
For writing Odes is not my trade:
My head is full of houfhold cares,
And neceffary dull affairs;
Befides that fometimes jealous frumps
Will put me into doleful dumps.


And then no clown beneath the sky
Was e'er more ungallant than I;
For you alone I now think fit
To turn a poet and a wit→

For you whofe charms, I know not how,
Have power to fmooth my wrinkled brow,
And make me, though by nature stupid,
As brifk, and as alert, as Cupid.
Thefe obligations to repay,
Whene'er your happy nuptial day
Shall with the circling years return,
For you my torch fhall brighter burn
Than when you firft my power ador'd,
Nor will I call myfelf your lord,
But am (as witness this my hand)
Your humble fervant at command.


Dear child let Hymen not beguile
You, who are fuch a judge of style,
To think that he thefe verfes made,
Without an abler penman's aid;
Obferve them well, you'll plainly fee,
That every line was writ by me.

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UCH were the notes that ftruck the wondering ear
Of filent Night, when, on the verdant banks
Of Siloë's hallow'd brook, celestial harps,
According to feraphic voices, fung

Glory to God on high, and on the earth

Peace and good-will to men !-Refume the lyre,
Chauntress divine, and every Briton call
Its melody to hear-so shall thy strains,
More powerful than the fong of Orpheus, tame
The favage heart of brutal Vice, and bend
At pure Religion's fhrine the ftubborn knees
Of bold Impiety.-Greece fhall no more
Of Lesbian Sappho boast, whose wanton Mufe,
Like a falfe Syren, while fhe charm'd, feduc'd
To guilt and ruin. For the facred head
Of Britain's poetess, the Virtues twine
A nobler wreath, by them from Eden's grove
Unfading gather'd, and direct the hand
Of -to fix it on her brows.



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THE Gods, on thrones celestial feated,

By Jove with bowls of nectar heated, All on Mount Edgecumbe turn'd their eyes; "That place is mine," great Neptune cries. "Behold! how proud o'er all the main "Those stately turrets feem to reign! "No views fo grand on earth you see! "The mafter too belongs to me: "I grant him my domain to fhare,

"I bid his hand my trident bear."

"The fea is yours, but mine the land,"
Pallas replies;" by me were plann'd
"Thofe towers, that hofpital, thofe docks,
"That fort, which crowns thofe ifland rocks:
"The lady too is of my choir,

"I taught her hand to touch the lyre;
"With every charm her mind I grac'd,
"I gave her prudence, knowledge, tafte."
"Hold, madam," interrupted Venus,
"The lady must be fhar'd between us:
"And furely mine is yonder grove,
"So fine, fo dark, fo fit for love;
"Trees, fuch as in th' Idalian glade,
"Or Cyprian lawn, my palace fhade."
Then Oreads, Dryads, Naiads, came;
Each Nymph alledg'd her lawful claim.

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But Jove, to finish the debate,

Thus fpoke, and what he fpeaks is fate :
"Nor god nor goddess, great or small,
"That dwelling his or hers may call;
"I made Mount Edgecumbe for you all."






HEN Peace fhall, on her downy wing,
To France and England Friendship bring,
Come, Aiguillon, and here receive
'That homage we delight to give
To foreign talents, foreign charms,
To worth which Envy's felf disarms
Of jealous hatred: Come, and love
That nation which you now approve.
So fhall by France amends be made
(If such a debt can e'er be paid)
For having with seducing art

From Britain ftol'n her Hervey's heart.


DRUMGOLD, whofe ancestors from Albion's

Their conquering ftandards to Hibernia bore,
Though now thy valour, to thy country loft,

Shines in the foremoft ranks of Gallia's hoft,

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