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LINES ADDRESSED

Whose early manhood with sagacious view,
Prophetic plans of fame and fortune drew;
And train’d to arms in Turenne's warlike school,

First by obeying,—was prepard to rule.
Then let brave Nelson-Gratitude recall,
Great in success, yet greater in his fall;
Can we forget St. Vincent's daring fight,
His Danish combat, and Aboukir's night?
Or the bright wreath Trafalgar's contest bought,
When his bold spirit, purer regions sought ;
Tho' Gallia menac'd with her hostile band,

To wrest the trident from our conqu’ring hand.

Last, mark the Captive leave his barren rock,

And make Creation vibrate with the shock;

In Ardenne's forest view the conflict rise,
Europe the stake,—Imperial sway the prize ;
Tho' ev'ry passion, ev'ry effort tried,
Revenge-despair-and lacerated pride;
Undaunted Wellington their fury broke,
Rescued each nation from the threaten'd yoke;
And in the struggle ne'er to fortune quaild,
Tho' dangers threaten'd, and tho' arms assail'd.

TO A YOUTHFUL RELATION.

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By their great talents and their name inspir’d,
With equal courage and ambition fird;
Like them instruct our martial youth to shine,
First in the charge and latest in the mine;
Like them aspire to change an empire's fate,
Or raise from panic, a desponding state ;
And when pale Death prepares a last retreat,
Calls the grey vetran from his honour'd seat;
When pensive crowds survey your fun’ral car,
(Deckt with the heraldry and pomp of war;)
The mitred prelate shall receive your dust,
While future Chieftains venerate your bust;
Shall tell their children, pointing to your grave,
(Mix'd with the ashes of the good and brave,)

“ There rest the men, distinguish'd and renown'd, “Whom once admiring nations with each honour crown'd.” LINES ADDRESSED TO A FRIEND.

“ Omitte mirari beatæ,

“ Fumum, et opes, strepetumque Romæ."

Horat.

You observe a soft languor pervading each mind,
When a party dissolves—to the remnant behind ;
As thro' empty saloons we dejectedly rove,
So late the abode of mirth, friendship and love;
The gloom to dispel of a similar hue,
Oh! recall the gay objects still fresh in our view;
From W—'s proud chateau, and princely retreat,
Of old British grandeur, the dignified seat ;

LINES ADDRESSED TO A FRIEND.

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To our long-ruin'd Castle-retreat of the brave,*

Where discord and folly, their signet engrave;

Like the strain by Helvetia's bold peasantry sung,
Which charm'd in her valleys, the shepherd when young;t
For wealth, fame, or honours, in age let him roam,
Only vibrate that chord, and he pines for his home.
It recalls his lone cottage and fir-cover'd glade,
His snow-drifted mountain, and rapid cascade ;
It recalls the lov'd scenes of his once spotless life,
’Ere he mix'd in the paths of ambition and strife.
Then forsake party-contests, their envy and hate,
Forsake the dull idols of fashion and state;

Where grandeur and pomp only dazzle—to cloy,
You part without sorrow, and meet without joy;
Where they coldly permit you to fill up a chair,
While formality freezes, guests, landlord, and fare;
Again brace your nerves at the rising of morn,
Or Reynard pursue o’er the dew-spangled lawn;

* Dismantled in the Civil Wars.

+ The fav'rite, “ Rantz De Vache."

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LINES ADDRESSED TO A FRIEND.

View those beauties of Nature he only can tell,
Who surveys with the sportsman each picturesque dell ;
Which the health, like Medea's fam'd caldron, restore,

And the roses of twenty shall blossom once more.
When fatigued with the chase, to our book-room retire,
To read in great Homer, Achilles's ire;
With the French Aristophanes, muse o'er some play,*
That charm'd gay Versailles in her once brilliant day ;
See the wit in Voltaire, or Le Fontaine that shines,

Skim Florian's novels or Marmontel's lines.

And at night, o’er our banquet reviewing the past,

(As Ocean's wild billow contends with the blast ;)

Recall the “gay Cynthia’s” who flutter'd their hour,
And shone in the “ Corsoor charm’d in the bower;

With candour discuss each theatrical star,

Or the once brilliant orbs of our senate and bar;

F-T, and E-, in fancy shall rave,

And

pay

a last tribute to ***'s grave;

*

Moliere,“ to whom Greece would have erected an Altar, though France refused a sepulchre.”Letter from his widow, to the Archbishop of Paris.

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