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Compassion too, not partially inclin'd,
Boundless his zeal, it shone o'er all mankind;
Beast, bird, fish, insect did its fervor share,
Whose lives he cherish'd with parental care ;
By forms not sway'd, though these the world revere,
He stemm'd luxurious fashion's proud career,
Repell’d the influence of her baneful pow'r,
And youth forewarn'rl, to shun the fatal hour
When their soft minds, depriv'd of Reason's light, .
A thousand pleasures play before the sight,
And life's gay scenes, enervating their souls,
Vice o'er their hearts, with latent force coutrouls,
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;
To curb the factious, property secure,
Punish the bad, the good rewards ensure
And man to patient industry allure ;
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.



HAD I but known, by Aikin's tender tale,

I touch'd the String, on which thy Sorrows hung; Believe me, gentle nymph of Scarsdale’s vale,

I'd left his lyre, I'd left my own unstrung,

In this world's chequer'd scene, where thorns of woe

Amid the flow'rs of joy, in ambush lie ;
Curs'd be that verse, how smooth soe'er it flow,

Which gives one virtuous girl, a hapless sigh.

Though the bright tears, that to thy eyelids stole,

Hanging like dew drops, on the glist’ning rose ;
Display'd a warm, a sympathetic soul,
A genial snil, where ev'ry virtue grows.
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“ Full many a gem of purest ray serene,

The dark unfathom'd caves of ocean bear;": But gems of Sympathy, how seldom seen,

Though none with these, in value can compare !

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.




Who repulsed me, as I was going to salute her, and

put on a grare angry look.

THOUGII Flies may rifle Delia's charms,

Her heav'nly nectar sip;
Yet nobler 1, am barr’d the pow'r,

To touch sweet Delia's lip.


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 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,

Where cold nor storm I fear.

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,

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