But chief my fear the dangers mov'd,
That Virtue's path inclofe:
My heart the wife purfuit approv'd;
But, O! what toils oppose !

For fee, ah! fee, while yet her ways
With doubtful step I tread,
A hoftile world it's terrors raise,
It's fnares delufive spread.

O! how fhall I, with heart prepar'd,
Thofe terrors learn to meet ?
How, from the thousand fnares, to guard
My unexperienc'd feet ?

As thus I mus'd, oppreffive Sleep
Soft o'er my temples drew
Oblivion's veil. The wat'ry deep,

An object ftrange and new,

Before me rofe: on the wide shore

Obfervant as I ftood,

The gathering ftorms around me roar,
And heave the boiling flood.

Near and more near the billows rife ;
E'en now my steps they lave;
And Death, to my affrighted eyes,
Approach'd in ev'ry wave.

What hope, or whither to retreat!
Each nerve at once unftrung;
Chill Fear had fetter'd faft my feet,
And chain'd my speechlefs tongue.

Know, when he bade the deep appear→→→ "Thus far," th' Almighty faid, "Thus far, nor farther, rage; and here "Let thy proud waves be ftay'd."

Say why, distrustful ftill,

• Thy thoughts with vain impatience roll

O'er fcenes of future ill!

Tho' griefs unnumber'd throng thee round,
Still in thy God confide,

• Whofe finger mark the feas their bound,
And curbs the headlong tide.'

HO' grief and fondness in my breast rebel,
When injur'd Thales bids the town farewel,
Yet ftill my calmer thoughts his choice commend,
I praise the hermit, but regret the friend ;
Who now refolves, from vice and London far,
To breathe in diftant fields a purer air ;

And,

And, fix'd on Cambria's folitary shore,
Give to St. David one true Briton more.

For who would leave, unbrib'd, Hibernia's land,
Or change the rocks of Scotland for the Strand }
There none are swept by fudden fate away;
But all, whom hunger fpares, with age decay.
Here malice, rapine, accident, confpire;
And now a rabble rages, now a fire:
Their ambush here relentless ruffians lay,
And here the fell attorney prowls for prey;
Here falling houfes thunder on your head,
And here a female athieft talks you dead.
While Thales waits the wherry that contains
Of diffipated wealth the small remains,
On Thames's bank in filent thought we flood,
Where Greenwich fmiles upon the filver flood.
Struck with the feat that gave Eliza birth*,
We kneel, and kifs the confecrated earth;
In pleafing dreams the blissful age renew,
And call Britannia's glories back to view:
Behold her cross triumphant on the main,
The guard of commerce, and the dread of Spain;
Ere masquerades debauch'd, excife opprefs'd,
Or English honour grew a ftanding jeft.

A tranfient calm the happy fcenes bestow,

And, for a moment, lull the fense of woe.
At length, awaking with contemptuous frown,
Indignant Thales eyes the neighb'ring town.

'Since worth,' he cries, in thefe degen'rate days,
• Wants e'en the cheap reward of empty praise;
• In those curs'd walls, devote to vice and gain,
Since unrewarded fcience toils in vain ;

Since hope but foothes to double my diftrefs,
And ev'ry moment leaves my little lefs;

Queen Elizabeth was born at Greenwich.

• While yet my steady steps no staff sustains,

And life, ftill vig'rous, revels in my veins ;

⚫ Grant me, kind Heav'n, to find fome happier place,
Where honefty and fenfe are no difgrace;

• Some pleafing bank where verdant ofiers play,
• Some peaceful vale with Nature's painting gay;
• Where once the harrafs'd Briton found repofe,
And, fafe in poverty, defy'd his foes;

Some fecret cell, ye pow'rs, indulgent give;

• Let

live here, for has learn'd to live. 'Here let thofe reign, whom penfions can incite To vote a patiot black, a courtier white;

Explain their country's dear-bought rights away,
And plead for pirates in the face of day;

• With flavish tenets taint our poison'd youth,
And lend a lye the confidence of truth.

Let fuch raife palaces, and manors buy,
Collect a tax, or farm a lottery;

With warbling eunuchs fill a licens'd ftage,
And lull to fervitude a thoughtless age.

Heroes, proceed! what bounds your pride fhall hold ! What check reftrain your thirst of pow'r and gold! Behold rebellious virtue quite o'erthrown,

• Behold our fame, our wealth, our lives, your own.
To fuch, a groaning nation's fpoils are giv'n,
When publick crimes inflame the wrath of Heav'n :
But what, my friend, what hope remains for me,
Who start at theft, and blush at perjury?

• Who scarce forbear, tho' Britain's court he fing,
To pluck a titled poet's borrow'd wing;
A ftatesman's logick unconvinc'd can hear,
And dare to flumber o'er the Gazetteer;
'Despise a fool in half his penfion dress'd,
And ftrive in vain to laugh at Hy's jeft.
Others, with fofter fmiles, and fubtler art,
Can Tap the principles, or taint the heart;

• With