Compassion too, not partially inclin❜d, Beast, bird, fish, insect did its fervor share, By forms not sway'd, though these the world revere, And youth forewarn'd, to shun the fatal hour And life's gay scenes, enervating their souls, The Patriot stedfast, in his Country's cause, Revering much, the majesty of laws, When these to strengthen seem'd, and not t'invade Those Rights of Man, for which all laws were made; Punish the bad, the good rewards ensure From hence he deem'd, true Government to spring, The compact this, of Subject and of King. Such was Day's life, whose merits crown'd above, Reap their just tribute, his Creator's love. } AN AN APOLOGY TO A LADY. 3 HAD I but known, by Aikin's tender tale, I touch'd the String, on which thy Sorrows hung; In this world's chequer'd scene, where thorns of woe Curs'd be that verse, how smooth soe'er it flow, Though the bright tears, that to thy eyelids stole, A genial soil, where ev'ry virtue grows. "Full many a gem of purest ray serene, The dark unfathom'd caves of ocean bear;" But gems of Sympathy, how seldom seen, The precious pearl of sympathetic woe, Which deck'd the lustre, of thy steady eye, Made my tears too, in silent sorrow flow, And waft to thee the tribute of a sigh. Forgive him, then, in pity to thy fate, Who touch'd the String, on which thy Sorrows hung; Since from that hour, his sorrows he may date, Who is, like thee, by Cupid's poison stung. EXTEMPORE EXTEMPORE VERSES, UPON A LADY, Who repulsed me, as I was going to salute her, and put on a grave angry look. THOUGII Flies may rifle Delia's charms, Her heav'nly nectar sip; Yet nobler 1, am barr'd the pow'r, Then why should man behold with scorn! The happier insect race? When even flies may dare to do, What human forms disgrace. Oh that I could but change my shape, And be an insect too, That I might lovely Delia kiss, And all her beauties view. But But ah! alas! I cannot hope To change this human mien; For that same God, who form'd my clay. Has their Creator been. But I can quit these once lov'd scenes, Since winter's frosts appear; And hasten to some warmer clime, For now my charming Delia frowns, The East wind chills my breast, Which, till she smiles, no more will feel The zephyrs of the West. |