Whare wilt thou cow'r thy chittering wing,

An' clofe thy e'e?

Ev's you on murd'ring errands toil'd, Lone from your favage homes exil'd,

The blood-ftain'd rooft, and fheep-cote spoil'd, My heart forgets,

While pitylefs the tempeft wild

Sore on you beats.

Now Phoebe, in her midnight reign, Dark-muffled view'd the dreary plain;

Sill crouding thoughts, a penfive train,

Rofe in my foul,

When on my ear this plaintive frain,

Slow-folemn, ftole

'BLow, blow, ye Winds, with heavier guft!!

'And freeze, thou bitter-biting Froft!

Descend,

'Defcend, ye chilly, fmothering Snows!

'Not all your rage, as now,

united fhows

'More hard unkindness, unrelenting,

Vengeful malice, unrepenting,

Then heaven-illumin'd Man or brother Man

• beftows!

'See ftern Oppreffion's iron grip,

Or mad Ambition's gory hand,

'Sending, like blood-hounds from the flip, 'Woe, Want, and Murder o'er a land! · Ev'n in the peaceful rural vale,

Truth, weeping, tells the mournful tale, How pamper'd Luxury, Flatt'ry by her fide, The parafite empoisoning her ear,

With all the fervile wretches in the rear,

'Looks o'er proud Property, extended wide;

And eyes the fimple, ruftic Hind,

'Whofe toil upholds the glitt'ring fhow,

• A crea

A creature of another kind,

Some coarfer fubftance, unrefin'd,

Plac'd for her lordly ufe thus far, thus vile,

• below!

1

WHERE, where is Love's fond, tender

throe,

With lordly Honor's lofty brow,
'The pow'rs you proudly own?
Is there, beneath Love's noble name,
Can harbour, dark, the felfish aim,

To blefs himfelf alone!

Mark Maiden-innocence a prey

To love-pretending fnares,

This boafted Honor turns away,

Shunning foft Pity's rifing fway,

Regardless of the tears, and unavailing

pray'rs !

'Perhaps,

"Perhaps, this hour, in Mis'ty's (qualid nest,

• She strains your infant to her jøylefsbreaft, And with a Mother's fears fhrinks at the rock.... ing blast!

'On ye! who, funk in beds of down, 'Feel not a want but what yourfelves

· create,

Think, for a moment, on his wretched

'fate,

• Whom friends and fortune quite difown! 'Ill-fatisfy'd, keen Nature's clam'rous call,

'Stretch'd on his ftraw he lays himself to

fleep,

'While thro' the ragged roof and chinky wally 'Chill, o'er his flumbers, piles the drifty heap!

Think on the dungeon's grim confine,

Where Guilt and poor Misfortune pine !

Guilt, erring Man, relenting view!
But fhall thy legal rage pursue

The Wretch, already crufhed low

By cruel Fortune's undeferved blow? Affliction's fons are brothers in diftrefs;

A Brother to relieve, how exquifite the

blifs!'

I HEARD nae mair, for Chanticleer

Shook off the pouthery fnaw,

And hail'd the morning with a cheer,

A cottage-roufing craw.

BUT deep this truth imprefs'd my mind

Thro' all his works abroad,

The heart benevolent and kind

The most refembles GOD.

END OF VOLUME FIRST.

BERWICK: PRINTED BY H, RICHARDSON.