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O DE TOMER C Y.
Thou, who fit'ít a smiling bride
By Valour's arm’d and aweful side, Gentlest of sky-born forms, and best ador'd:
Who oft with songs, divine to hear,
Win’st from his fatal grasp the spear,
Thou who, amidst the deathful field,
By godlike chiefs alone beheld,
See Mercy, fee, with pure and loaded hands,
Before thy shrine my country's genius stands, And decks thy altar still, though pierc'd with many a wound !
The fiend of Nature join'd his yoke,
Thy form, from out thy sweet abode,
O’ertook him on his blasted road,
I see recoil his sable steeds,
That bore him swift to savage deeds,
Where Justice bars her iron tower,
[throne ! Thou, thou shalt rule our queen, and share our monarchos
L I B ER T Y.
HO shall awake the Spartan fife,
And call in folemn sounds to life,
Like vernal hyacinths in sullen hue,
Applauding Freedom lov'd of old to view?
At Wisdom's shrine a while its flame concealing, (What place fo fit to seal a deed renown'd?)
Till she her brightest lightnings round revealing,
O Goddess, in that feeling hour,
Let not my shell's misguided power,
And all the blended work of strength and grace,
With many a rude repeated stroke, And many a barbarous yell, to thousand fragments broke.
Yet, ev’n wheree'er the least appear’d,
Forth from his eyrie rouz'd in dread,
The Gaul, 'tis held of antique story,
No sea between, nor cliff sublime and hoary,
The Dutch, amongst whom there are very severe penalties for those who are convicted of killing this bird. They are kept tame in almost all their towns, and particularly at the Hague, of the arms of which they make a part. The common people of Holland are faid to entertain a superstitious sentiment, that if the whole species of them should become extinct, they should lose their liberties.
+ This tradition is mentioned by several of our old historians. Some naturalitts too have endeavoured to support the probability of the fact, by arguments drawn from the correspondent disposition of the two opposite coafts. I do not remember that any poetical use has been hitherto made of it.
To the blown Baltic then, they say,
The wild waves found another way,
Till all the banded west at once 'gan rise,
Withering her giant sons with strange uncouth sura
By winds and inward labours torn, In thunders dread was push'd aside,
And down the shouldering billows borne.
The little illes on every side,
Where thousand elfin shapes abide,
For thee consenting heaven has each bestow'd,
To thee this blest divorce she ow'd, For thou hast made her vales thy lov'd, thy last abode!
* There is a tradition in the Isle of Man, that a mermaid becoming enamoured of a young man of extraordinary beauty, took an opportunity of meeting him one day as he walked on the shore, and opened her pasfion to him, but was received with a coldness, occafioned by his horror and surprize at her appearance. This however was so misconstrued by the sea-lady, that, in revenge for his treatment of her, the punished the whole island, by covering it with a mist, so that all who attempted to carry on any commerce with it, either never arrived at it, but wandered up and down the sea, or were on a sudden wrecked upon its cliffs,