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Weigh this, ye pupils of Voltaire !

From joyless murmur free;
Or, let us know, which character

Shall crown you of the three.
Resign, refign: this lesson none

Too deeply can instill ;
A crown has been resign'd by more,

Than have resign'd the will ;
Though will resign’d the meanest makes

Superior in renown,
And richer in celestial eyes,

Than he who wears a crown ;
Hence, in the bofom cold of age,

It kindled a strange aim
To shine in song; and bid me boast

The * grandeur of my theme;
But oh ! how far presumption falls

Its lofty theme below!
Our thoughts in life's December freeze,

And numbers cease to flow,
First! greatest ! best! grant what I wrote

For others, ne'er may rise
To brand the writer; thou alone

Canft make our wisdom wise ;
And how unwise ! how deep in guilt !

How infamous the fault !
6 A teacher thron'd in pomp of words,

Indeed, beneath the taught!”

Page 87.


Means moft infallible to make

The world an infidel;
And, with instructions moft divine,

To pave a path to hell ;
O! for a clean and ardent heart,

O! for a foul on fire,
Thy praise, begun on earth, to found

Where angels string the lyre ;
How cold is man? to him how hard

(Hard, what most easy seems) “ To set a just esteem on that,

" Which yet he most esteems.” What shall we say, when boundless bliss

Is offer'd to mankind,
And, to that offer when a race

Of rationals is blind?
Of human nature ne'er too high

Are our ideas wrought;
Of human merit ne'er too low
Depress’d the daring thought.


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IR, I have long, and with impatience, fought,

To ease the fullness of my grateful thought,
My fame at once, and duty to pursue,
And please the public, by respect to you.

Though you, long since beyond Britannia known,
Have spread your country's glory with your own ;
To me you never did more lovely shine,
Than when so late the kindled wrath divine
Quench'd our ambition, in great Anna's fate,
And darken'd all the pomp of human ftate.
Though you are rich in fame, and fame decay,
Though rais'd in life, and greatness fade away,
Your lustre brightens : virtue cuts the gloom

purer rays, and sparkles near a tomb.
Know, fir, the great esteem and honour due,
I chose that moment to profess to you,
When fadness reign'd, when fortune, so severe,
Had warm'd our bofoms to be moft fincere.
And when no motives could have force to raise
A serious value, and provoke my praise,
But such as rise above, and far transcend
Whatever glories with this world shall end,


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