So the best courfer on the plain
Ere yet he starts is known,

And does but at the goal obtain

What all had deem'd his own.

ODE TO PEACE.

I.

COME, peace of mind, delightful gueft! Return and make thy downy neft

Once more in this fad heart :

Nor riches I, nor pow'r purfue,
Nor hold forbidden joys in view,

We therefore need not part.

II.

Where wilt thou dwell if not with me,

From av'rice and ambition free,

And pleasures fatal wiles?

For whom, alas! doft thou prepare
The fweets that I was wont to share,

The banquet of thy fimiles?

III.

The great, the gay, fhall they partake
The heav'n that thou alone canft make,

And wilt thou quit the ftream

That murmurs through the dewy mead, and the fequefter'd shed,

The grove

To be a guest with them?

IV.

For thee I panted, thee I priz'd,

For thee I gladly facrific'd

Whate'er I lov'd before,

And fhall I fee thee ftart away,

And helpless, hopeless, hear thee say—

Farewell! we meet no more?

HUMAN FRAILT Y.

I.

WEAK and irrefolute is man;

The purpose of to-day,

Woven with pains into his plan,

To-morrow rends away.

II.

The bow well bent and fmart the spring,

Vice feems already flain,

But paffion rudely fnaps the string,

And it revives again.

III.

Some foe to his upright intent.

Finds out his weaker part,

Virtue engages his affent,

But pleasure wins his heart.

IV.

'Tis here the folly of the wife

Through all his art we view,

And while his tongue the charge denies,

His confcience owns it true.

V.

Bound on a voyage of awful length

And dangers little known,

A ftranger to fuperior ftrength,
Man vainly trufts his own.

VI. But

But oars alone can ne'er prevail

To reach the distant coast,

The breath of heav'n must swell the fail,

Or all the toil is loft.

THE

MODERN PATRIOT.

I.

REBELLION is my theme all day,
I only wish 'twould come

(As who knows but perhaps it may)

A little nearer home.

II.

Yon roaring boys who rave and fight

On t'other fide the Atlantic,

I always held them in the right,

But most fo when most frantic.

III.

When lawless mobs infult the court,

That man fhall be my toast,

If breaking windows be the sport,

Who bravely breaks the most.

IV.

But oh! fór him my fancy culls

The choiceft flow'rs fhe bears,

Who conftitutionally pulls

Your house about your ears.

V.

Such civil broils are my delight,

Tho' fome folks can't endure 'em,

Who say the mob are mad outright,
And that a rope must cure 'em.

VI.

A rope! I wish we patriots had

Such ftrings for all who need 'em

What! hang a man for going mad?
Then farewell British freedom.

On obferving fome Names of little Note recorded in the BIOGRAPHIA BRITANNICA.

OH fond attempt to give a deathlefs lot,

To names ignoble, born to be forgot!

In