The best of flaves I am call'd by men,
When held in proper durance;
But, if I once do mischief, then

I am heard of at the insurance.
Thro' nature's works I take my flight,
And kindle as I run;
Up from the tinder-box I light
The chariot of the fun.

Alas! poor REPUTATION cry'd,
How happy in each other,
Such numerous marks must furely guide
Each stranger to his brother.
Tis I alone must be undone,
Such ills has fate defign'd me:

If I be loft, 'tis ten to one,

You never more will find me.

On the death of two GOLDFINCHES, given to the writer by the Right Honourable Lady MARY LESLIE, on her leaving IRELAND.

A

DIEU! O ye favourites, fo dear!
Ye pretty sweet warblers adieu!
No more your glad notes fhall I hear,
No more meet your welcomes fo true;
No more on my fhoulder and head,
Free perching, my tea fhall ye fip;
No more fhall ye eye me for bread,
And fnatch, with your bills, from my lip.

Dull

Dull cenfors, ye hold it in fcorn,

From fuch motives diftrefs fhould appear:
Yet, I lov'd them, and cannot but mourn;

They are dead, and I must drop a tear.
Whoe'er fhall fuch feelings defpife,
May act the more ftoical part,
May vaunt himself happy and wife,
But let him not boaft of his heart.
Affection with virtue is join'd,

It dwells with the brave and the free,
It warms and ennobles the mind,
Then, is it a weakness in me?
If gratitude weakness implies,
That weakness.for ever be mine-
And the gift for the giver I prize;
They, lovely MARIA, were thine.
At NEWLAND*, where often I stray'd,
And often you tripp'd by my fidet,
One evening, flow winding the glade,
In a hawthorn the nestlings were spy'd;
Soft tranfport quick glanc'd from your eye,
Sweet innocence lifp'd on your tongue;
They chirrup'd-you wish'd, with a figh,
To protect both the nest and the young.
Full feather'd they home were convey'd-
For honour and freedom well known,
With a LESLIE nought had they to dread,

And their fears were foon over and gone.`

At

*The Earl of ROTHES's fummer refidence, near DUBLIN. The writer was preceptor to her Ladyship.

At large, in your chamber they flew

O! there, that 'till now they might rove!-
And fed, and attended by you,

Forgot both the fields and the grove.
But the feafon of forrow drew nigh-
Far hence muft their mistress depart
Remembrance, even now, fills my eye,
For MARIA was dear to my heart.
And she kiss'd her poor favourites, and cry'd;
And the begg'd to her birds I'd be kind;
And the much in my care did confide,
And her words ever liv'd in my mind.

.One morn,

of my
CHARLEY* bereft,
What else could from hirelings enfue?
The window wide open was left,
And away the dear libertine flew.
All the day, though 'tis ftrange to relate,
All the day did he wantonly roam;
But at eve the foft notes of his mate,
Recall'd the bold fugitive home.
For years the fole joy of her heart,
Thence faithful he fung by her fide;
And at her when cold death flung his dart,
He languifh'd, he ficken'd, he died.
Adieu! ye companions, fo dear!
Ye pretty fweet warblers adieu!

No more your glad notes fhall I hear;
How rare meet affection fo true!

One of the Goldfinches fo called; a family name.

S

EARCH Nature's works, thro' all her mazy plan, All Nature's works are counterparts of Man, 'Tis man, 'tis man, the moralizing mufe Sees in the rock, and in the wave pursues.

Mark yonder low'ring cloud, fee billows rife, Shoot up aloft in air, and threat the skies; Such and fo great the ftorm within the foul, When reafon finks, and paffion's billows roll.

See trembling fun-beams play along the tide, Soft breathes the gale, and smooth the waters glide; 'Tis fo the placid man's life gently flows, Where all is motion, and yet all repofe.

The fluggard, every passion lull'd to fleep, Dares not to hope, to fear, to joy, to weep; Behold, fit emblem of the fluggard's reft, The dead ftill calm, unbleffing and unbleft. Waves deftroy waves, fucceffive as they flow, And beat down others, that themselves may grow; So the false wretch, the basest of the base; Supplants his fellow, to ufurp his place.

Wrapt in himself and refolutely just, Unmov'd, nor changing with the changing guft; The moral hero ftands each adverfe fhock, The moral hero's pictur'd in the rock. Behold the ocean, all inteftine jar, All chaos, difcord, and unceasing war; Behold the world, all paffion, and all ftrife; The world's an ocean, and our voy'ge is life.

See,

See, fee each bark exalt the little fail,
Launch eager on the tide, and catch the gale,
A hapless bark, long e'er it reach the coast,
It must be fhatter'd, and it may be loft.

Paffions are winds to urge us o'er the wave,
Reason the rudder, to direct and fave;
This without thofe, obtains a vain employ,
Those without this, but urge us to destroy.

Hope is our anchor: every comfort past,
She gives an animating smile at last,

With her, tho' wreck'd, we dare the ftormy main, And wreck'd again, with her we dare again.

The port is happiness: all hither aim, All seek by different means, this end the fame; Oh happiness, to thee, to thee we're bound, Thee ever seek to find, tho' none e'er found, We seek thee here: In vain. We feek thee there, Still, ftill in vain; thou phantom fleet as air.

Say goddess in what place thou lov'ft to dwell,
What unknown region, or what hidden cell;
Oh deign to shed one glimmʼring ray of light,
Exalt one beacon, and direct us right;
Thro' unknown tracks, thro' hidden cells for thee,
Well climb each rock, and dauntlefs brave each fea.
Unlike to this, behold another port,

To which we would not, yet we must refort;
A filent port, where winds forget to roar,
And foaming billows learn to foam no more;
Where clouds and quickfands, ftorms and tempefts
ceafe,

All hufh'd in filence and eternal peace.

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