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'Twas gold instructed coward hearts
Whence is this wild ungrateful rant? Each sordid rascal's daily cant: Did I, base wretch! corrupt mankind? The fault's in thy rapacious mind. Because my blessings are abus'd, Must I be censur'd, curs'd, accus'd? E’en Virtue's self by knaves is made A cloak to carry on the trade; And power (when lodg'd in their possession) Grows tyranny, and rank oppression. Thus, when the villain crams his chest, Gold is the canker of the breast; 'Tis av'rice, insolence, and pride, Add every shocking vice beside: But when to virtuous hands 'tis given, It blesses, like the dews of Heaven: Like Heav'n it hears the orphan's cries, And wipes the tears from widows' eyes.
Their crimes on gold shall Misers lay,
TO THE MEMORY OF
DAVID GARRICK, Esq.
JANUARY 20, 1779.
great reviver of the Attic fire! Thou noblest patron of the tuneful lyre! Thine was the power, and thine the gentle art, To swell the passions, and subdue the heart! For thee, the fairest breast has heav'd a sigh, And the tear started from the brightest eye! Learning and wit alike bave bow'd the knee, And hermits left their cells to gaze on thee! On thee shall charm'd remembrance love to rest; Come
every Muse, and strive to praise him best! For, ah! my lute the tribute cannot pay, And the big tear has blotted out the lay! Ye skilful nine, who shall the chaplet weave? Hail his bright day!-nor mourn his tranquil eve! Your Garrick hail !-he breathes, he lives again, Lives in the thought, and breathes in every strain! Triumphant Fame enrols his acts on high, And tells the mourner-Garrick cannot die!
A CONTEMPLATION ON NIGHT.
WHETHER amid the gloom of Night I stray,
When the gay sun first breaks the shades of Night,
Whether those stars, that twinkling lustre send, Are suns, and rolling worlds those suns attend, Man may conjecture, and new schemes declare Yet all his systems but conjectures are; But this we know, that Heav'n's eternal King, Who bid this universe from nothing spring, Can at his word, bid num'rous worlds appear, And rising worlds th’all-powerful word shall hear.
When to the western main the sun descends,
When the pure soul is from the body flown, No more sball Night's alternate reign be known; The sun no more shall rolling light bestow, But from the Almighty streams of glory flow. Ob! may some nobler thought my soul employ, Than empty, transient, sublunary joy. The stars shall drop, the sun shall lose his flame, But thoo, O God' for ever shine the same,
MAY-EVE, OR KATE OF ABERDEEN.
The silver moon's enamour'd bearu
Steals softly through the night;
And kiss reflected light.
'Tis where you've seldom been;
With Kate of Aberdeen.
Upon the green the virgins wait,
In rosy chaplets gay;
Avd gives the promis'd May.
The promis'd May, when seen,
As Kate of Aberdeen.
Strike up the tabor's boldest notes,
We'll rouse the nodding grove;
And hail the maid I love.
He quits the tufted green;
'Tis Kate of Aberdeen.