TO A FRIEND'S INVITATION.

We may read of the "Desmonds". —a tale of romance,*
And blush for the profligate " Ninons" of France.†
But our old English manners, still coy and retir'd,
By her cup of enchantment remain uninspir'd;
Yet one friendly hint, my old comrade! receive,
Or too late for past moments you vainly will grieve;
Seize !-seize !-ere it flies, all that health can afford,
And adorn with fresh flowers-Hospitality's board;
Indugle the caprices of Taste and “ Virtu,”
And each varied amusement discreetly pursue.
For unite the acquirements of -—————, or ———————,
To the high-finish'd manners of Britain's fam'd heir ;‡
The wealth of a Russell-the learning of Parr,
With the laurels encircling a Wellington's car;

In the gay festive banquet, or joys of the chase,
'Midst the objects of folly, we count and embrace;

13

* The once celebrated Countess of Desmond, who lived in four reigns, and died, it is recorded, at the age of one hundred and thirty.

Ninon D'Enclos.

The late George the Fourth supposed to be the best-bred man in Europe; and to posess" cet heureux don de plaire, quis mieux que la virtu; sait regners sur les cœurs."

14 LINES IN REPLY TO A FRIEND'S INVITATION.

The ebon-wing'd tyrant proclaims with a frown,
Unawed by the Coronet, Mitre, or Crown;

Your part must soon finish on Life's busy scene,
And "Tempus abire" sighs Pleasure's fair Queen.

THE height now gain'd of Youth's exulting morn,

Each act of meanness-held in manly scorn ;

16

LINES ADDRESSED

From College-lore, and all restraint now free,

Launch'd, dear

,

on Life's tempestuous sea;

Let the still voice of conscience ever guide,

While truth and honour o'er each thought preside;

Let the gay comrade join the steady friend,

And firm discretion, with good humour blend;

Should pride or falsehood their advice intrude,
Or vanity display her selfish brood;

Should fashion tempt you to the gamester's life,

(Scene of vicissitude-remorse and strife ;)

Avoid the councils that will ever bring,

The bitter anguish of a serpent's sting.

No gloomy Monk with hypocritic lour,

Would blight the sunshine of your happiest hour; Enjoy each blessing Providence bestows,

Join the fair throng, and crop the vernal rose;

Yet ne'er be tempted from your parent's side, Tho' "Summer friends" that shelter may deride;

In all your objects, they an interest take,

Nor 'ere from envy, or caprice forsake;

When future life displays her ample choice,

And loud ambition elevates her voice,

TO A YOUTHFUL RELATION.

If dull retirement can possess no charms,
Or you prefer the nobler din of arms;
Mark Judith chaunting to her youthful son,
Of all the trophies Saxon heroes won;
Of former chieftains whose triumphant fall,
Secur'd their welcome in fierce Odin's hall;
Our greatest Monarch then in early prime,
With Life's warm current yet unchill'd by Time;
In arts and arms, alike to shine, aspires,
(As some gay vision all his bosom fires ;)

He calms each horror of intestine war,

Hails thro' the storm, Britannia's rising star;

Matures in silence his immortal law,*

(Bulwark of virtue, as of guilt the awe ;)

And proves the source whence noblest actions spring,

In that great character-a Patriot King.

And say to whom his once lov'd Albion yields,

"On stormy oceans, or in fighting fields?”

From the proud battles, gallant Marlbro' won,

(Inferior only to Hamilcar's son :)

VOL. II.

* Trial by Jury.

Q

17