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, Like the mild crefcent of the night. Tho' pale our beams, and small our sphere, 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 + 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? I can't discharge great Hardwicke's trust- Two golden virtues are behind, And when our fouls in friendship join, That breaft, where honour builds his throne, Nar Nor int'reft warps, nor fear appalls, THE HERMIT.* TURN, gentle hermit of the dale, • To where yon taper cheers the vale, 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, Here to the houfelefs child of want And tho' my portion is but fcant, * Written by Dr. Goldsmith. • Then • Then turn to-night, and freely share ཝ Whate'er my cell beftows, My rufhy couch, and frugal fare, : No flocks that range the valley free, But from the mountain's graffy fide, A fcrip with herbs and fruits fupply'd, • Then pilgrim turn, thy cares forego; Soft as the dew from heav'n defcends, The grateful ftranger lowly bends, Far |