But we, in mutual bondage knit
Of friendship's closest tie,
Can gaze on even Darwin's wit
With an unjaundiced eye;

And deem the Bard, whoe'er he be,

And howsoever known,

Who would not twine a wreath for Thee,
Unworthy of his own.

ON

Mrs. MONTAGUE's

FEATHER-HANGINGS.

THE Birds put off their ev'ry hue

To dress a room for Montague.

The Peacock fends his heav'nly dyes,
His rainbows and his starry eyes;

The Pheafant, plumes, which round infold
His mantling neck with downy gold;
The Cock his arch'd tail's azure show;
And, river-blanch'd, the Swan, his fnow.

All tribes befide of Indian name,
That gloffy fhine or vivid flame,
Where rifes, and where fets the day,
Whate'er they boast of rich and gay,
Contribute to the gorgeous plan,
Proud to advance it all they can.
This plumage neither dashing show'r
Nor blafts that shake the dripping bow'r
Shall drench again or difcompose,

But fcreen'd from ev'ry ftorm that blows,
It boasts a splendour ever new,
Safe with protecting Montague.

To the fame patronefs refort,

Secure of favour at her court,

Strong Genius, from whofe forge of thought
Forms rife, to quick perfection wrought,
Which, though new-born, with vigour move,
Like Pallas fpringing arm'd from Jove
Imagination scatt'ring round

Wild roses over furrow'd ground,
Which Labour of his frown beguile,
And teach Philosophy a smile-
Wit flashing on Religion's fide,
Whose fires to facred Truth applied,

The gem, though luminous before,
Obtrude on human notice more,
Like fun-beams on the golden height
Of fome tall temple playing bright-
Well-tutor'd Learning, from his books
Difmifs'd with grave, not haughty, looks,
Their order on his fhelves exact
Not more harmonious or compact

Than that to which he keeps confin'd
The various treafures of his mind-
All these to Montague's repair,

Ambitious of a fhelter there.

There Genius, Learning, Fancy, Wit,
Their ruffled plumage calm refit,
(For ftormy troubles loudeft roar
Around their flight who highest foar)
And in her eye, and by her aid,
Shine fafe without a fear to fade.

She thus maintains divided fway
With yon bright Regent of the day;
The Plume and Poet both we know
Their luftre to his influence owe,
And the the works of Phœbus aiding,
Both Poet faves and Plume from fading.

SONNET

ADDRESSED TO

HENRY COWPER, Esa.

On his emphatical and interefting delivery of the Defence of WARREN HASTINGS, Efq. in the House of Lords.

COWPER, whofe filver voice, tafk'd fometimes hard, Legends prolix delivers in the ears

(Attentive when thou read'ft) of England's Peers, Let verfe at length yield thee thy just reward. Thou waft not heard with drowsy disregard, Expending late on all that length of plea

Thy gen'rous pow'rs, but filence honour'd thee Mute as e'er gaz'd on Orator or Bard.

Thou art not voice alone, but haft befide

Both heart and head; and could'ft with mufic fweet Of attic phrase and senatorial tone,

Like thy renown'd Forefathers, far and wide

Thy fame diffuse, prais'd not for utt'rance meet

Of others' fpeech, but magic of thy own.

THE MORNING DREAM.

"TWAS in the glad feafon of spring,
Afleep at the dawn of the day,

I dream'd what I cannot but fing,
So pleasant it seem'd as I lay.
I dream'd that on ocean afloat,

Far hence to the weftward I fail'd,
While the billows high-lifted the boat,
And the fresh-blowing breeze never fail'd.

In the fteerage a woman I saw,

Such at least was the form that fhe wore, Whose beauty impress'd me with awe,

Ne'er taught me by woman before.

She fat, and a fhield at her fide

Shed light like a fun on the waves,
And smiling divinely, the cry'd—
I go to make Freemen of Slaves.-

Then raifing her voice to a strain

The sweetest that ear ever heard,