Darkness the skies had mantled o'er
In aid of her design—
Darkness. Q Queen! ne'er call'd before
To veil a deed of thine!

On borrow'd wheels away she flies,
Resolved to be unknown,
And gratify no curious eyes

That night except her own.
Arrived, a night like noon she sees,
And hears the million hum;
As all by instinct, like the bees,

Had known their sovereign come. Pleased she beheld, aloft portray'd

On many a splendid wall, Emblems of health and heavenly aid, And George the theme of all.

Unlike the enigmatic line,
So difficult to spell,

Which shook Belshazzar at his wine
The night his city fell.

Soon watery grew her eyes and dim,
But with a joyful tear,
None else, except in prayer for him,
George ever drew from her.

It was a scene in every part
Like those in fable feign'd,
And seem'd by some magician's art
Created and sustain'd.

But other magic there, she knew, Had been exerted none.

To raise such wonders in her view, Save love of George alone.

That cordial thought her spirit cheer d, And, through the cumbrous throng, Not else unworthy to be fear'd, Convey'd her calm along.

So, ancient poets say, serene

The sea-maid rides the waves, And fearless of the billowy scene Her peaceful bosom laves.

With more than astronomic eyes

She view'd the sparkling show; One Georgian star adorns the skies, She myriads found below.

Yet let the glories of a night
Like that once seen suffice,
Heaven grant us no such future sight,
Such previous woe the price!

THE COCK-FIGHTER'S GARLAND.*
MUSE-hide his name of whom I sing,
Lest his surviving house thou bring

For his sake into scorn,

*Written on reading the following in the obituary of the Gentleman's Magazine for April, 1789.-" At Tottenham, John Ardesoif, Esq., a young man of large fortune, and in the splendor of his carriages and horses rivalled by few country gentlemen. His table was that of hospitality, where, it may be said, he sacrificed too much to conviviality; but, if he had his foibles he had his merits also, that far outweighed them. Mr. A. was very fond of cork-fighting, and had a favorite cock, upon which he had won many profitable matches. The last bet he laid

Nor speak the school from which he drew The much or little that he knew,

Nor place where he was born.

That such a man once was, may seem
Worthy of record (if the theme
Perchance may credit win)
For proof to man, what man may prove,
If grace depart, and demons move
The source of guilt within.

This man (for since the howling wild
Disclaims him, man he must be styled)
Wanted no good below,
Gentle he was, if gentle birth
Could make him such, and he had worth,
If wealth can worth bestow.

In social talk and ready jest,
He shone superior at the feast,
And qualities of mind,
Illustrious in the eyes of those
Whose gay society he chose,
Possess'd of every kind.
Methinks I see him powder'd red,
With bushy locks his well-dress'd head
Wing'd broad on either side,
The mossy rosebud not so sweet;
His steeds superb. his carriage neat,
As luxury could provide.

Can such be cruel? Such can be
Cruel as hell, and so was he;
A tyrant entertain'd

With barbarous sports, whose fell delight
Was to encourage mortal fight
"Twixt birds to battle train'd.

One feather'd champion he possess'd,
His darling far beyond the rest,
Which never knew disgrace,
Nor e'er had fought but he made flow
The life-blood of his fiercest foe,
The Cæsar of his race.

It chanced at last, when on a day,
He push'd him to the desperate fray,
His courage droop'd, he fled.
The master storm'd, the prize was lost,
And, instant, frantic at the cost,

He doom'd his favorite dead.

He seized him fast, and from the pit
Flew to the kitchen, snatch'd the spit,
And, Bring me cord, he cried;
The cord was brought, and. at his word,
To that dire implement the bird,
Alive and struggling, tied.
The horrid sequel asks a veil ;
And all the terrors of the tale

That can be shall be sunkLed by the sufferer's screams aright His shock'd companions view the sight, And him with fury drunk.

upon this cock he lost; which so enraged him, that he had the bird tied to a spit and roasted alive before a large fire. The screams of the miserable animal were so affecting, that some gentlemen who were present attempted to interfere, which so enraged Mr. A., that he seized a poker, and with the most furious vehemence declared, that he would kill the first man who interposed; but, in the midst of his passionate asseverations, he fell down dead upon the spot. Such, we are assured, were the cir cumstances which attended the death of this great pillar of humanity."

And in thy minikin and embryo state,
Attach'd to the firm leaf of some salt weed.
Didst outlive tempests such as wrung and rack'a
The joints of many a stout and gallant bark,
And whelm'd them in the unexplored abyss.
Indebted to no magnet and no chart,
Nor under guidance of the polar fire,
Thou wast a voyager on many coasts,
Grazing at large in meadows submarine,
Where flat Batavia. just emerging, peeps
Above the brine-where Caledonia's rocks
Beat back the surge-and where Hibernia shoots
Her wondrous causeway far into the main.
-Wherever thou hast fed. thou little thought'st,
And I not more, that I should feed on thee.
Peace, therefore, and good health, and much
good fish,

To him who sent thee! and success, as oft
As it descends into the billowy gulf, [well!
To the same drag that caught thee!-Fare thee
Thy lot thy brethren of the slimy fin [doom'd
Would envy, could they know that thou wast
To feed a bard, and to be praised in verse.

To pay with tuneful thanks the care And kindness of a lady fair,

Who deigns to deck his bed.

A bed like this. in ancient time,
On Ida's barren top sublime,

(As Homer's epic shows) Composed of sweetest vernal flowers, Without the aid of sun or showers,

For Jove and Juno rose.

Less beautiful, however gay,
Is that which in the scorching day,
Receives the weary swain,
Who, laying his long scythe aside,
Sleeps on some bank with daisies pied,
Till roused to toil again.

What labors of the loom I see !
Looms numberless have groan'd for me!
Should every maiden come
To scramble for the patch that bears
The impress of the robe she wears,
The bell would toll for some.

And oh, what havoc would ensue ! This bright display of every hue All in a moment filed!

As if a storm should strip the bowers
Of all their tendrils, leaves, and flowers-
Each pocketing a shred.

Thanks then to every gentle fair Who will not come to peck me bare

As bird of borrow'd feather, And thanks to one above them all, The gentle fair of Pertenhall, Who put the whole together. August, 1790.

IN MEMORY OF

THE LATE JOHN THORNTON, ESQ. POETS attempt the noblest task they can, Praising the author of all good in man, And, next. commemorating worthies lost, The dead in whom that good abounded most.

Thee, therefore, of commercial fame, but more Famed for thy probity from shore to shore, Thee, Thornton! worthy in some page to shine, As honest and more eloquent than mine, I mourn; or, since thrice happy thou must be, The world, no longer thy abode, not thee. Thee to deplore were grief misspent indeed; It were to weep that goodness has its meed, That there is bliss prepared in yonder sky, And glory for the virtuous when they die.

What pleasure can the miser's fondled hoard Or spendthrift's prodigal excess afford, Sweet as the privilege of healing woe By virtue suffer'd combating below? [means That privilege was thine; Heaven gave thee To illumine with delight the saddest scenes, Till thy appearance chased the gloom, forlorn As midnight, and despairing of a morn. Thou hadst an industry in doing good, Restless as his who toils and sweats for food; Avarice in thee was the desire of wealth By rust unperishable or by stealth, And if the genuine worth of gold depend On application to its noblest end,

Thine had a value in the scales of Heaven
Surpassing all that mine or mint had given.
And, though God made thee of a nature prone
To distribution boundless of thy own,
And still by motives of religious force
Impell'd thee more to that heroic course,
Yet was thy liberality discreet,
Nice in its choice, and of a temper'd heat;
And, though in act unwearied, secret still,
As in some solitude the summer rill
Refreshes where it winds, the faded green, [seen
And cheers the drooping flowers, unheard, un
Such was thy charity: no sudden start,
After long sleep of passion in the heart,
But stedfast principle, and, in its kind,
Of close relation to the Eternal Mind,
Traced easily to its true source above,
To him whose works bespeak his nature, love.
Thy bounties all were Christian, and I make
This record of thee for the Gospel's sake;
That the incredulous themselves may see
Its use and power exemplified in thee.
Nov., 1790.

THE FOUR AGES.

(A BRIEF FRAGMENT OF AN EXTENSIVE PROJECTED POEM.)

"I COULD be well content, allowed the use
Of past experience, and the wisdom glean'd
From worn-out follies, now acknowledged such
To recommence life's trial, in the hope
Of fewer errors, on a second proof!"

Thus, while grey evening lull'd the wind, and call'd

Fresh odors from the shrubbery at my side, Taking my lonely winding walk, I mused, And held accustom'd conference with my heart; When from within it thus a voice replied: "Couldst thou in truth? and art thou taught at length

This wisdom, and but this, from all the past?
Is not the pardon of thy long arrear,
Time wasted, violated laws, abuse
Of talents, judgment, mercies, better far
Than opportunity vouchsafed to err
With less excuse, and, haply, worse effect?"

I heard, and acquiesced: then to and fro
Oft pacing, as the mariner his deck,
My gravelly bounds, from self to human kind
I pass'd, and next consider'd-what is man.
Knows he his origin? can he ascend
By reminiscence to his earliest date?
Slept he in Adam? And in those from him
Through numerous generations. till he found
At length his destined moment to be born?
Or was he not, till fashion'd in the womb?
Deep mysteries both! which schoolmen mu
have toil'd

To unriddle, and have left them mysteries still It is an evil incident to man,

And of the worst, that unexplored he leaves
Truths useful and attainable with ease,
To search forbidden deeps, where mystery lies
Not to be solved, and useless if it might.
Mysteries are food for angels; they digest
With ease, and find them nutriment; but man,
While yet he dwells below, must stoop to glean
His manna from the ground, or starve and die.

May, 1791.

THE RETIRED CAT.*

A POET'S CAT, sedate and grave,
As poet well could wish to have,
Was much addicted to inquire
For nooks to which she might retire,
And where, secure as mouse in chink,
She might repose, or sit and think.
I know not where she caught the trick-
Nature perhaps herself had cast her
In such a mould philosophique,

Or else she learn'd it of her master.
Sometimes ascending, debonair,
An apple tree, or lofty pear,
Lodged with convenience in the fork,
She watch'd the gardener at his work;
Sometimes her ease and solace sought
In an old empty watering pot:
There, wanting nothing save a fan,
To seem some nymph in her sedan
Apparell'd in exactest sort,
And ready to be borne to court.

But love of change, it seems, has place
Not only in our wiser race;
Cats also feel, as well as we,
That passion's force, and so did she.
Her climbing, she began to find,
Exposed her too much to the wind,
And the old utensil of tin

Was cold and comfortless within:
She therefore wish'd instead of those
Some place of more serene repose,
Where neither cold might come, nor air
Too rudely wanton with her hair,
And sought it in the likeliest mode
Within her master's snug abode.

A drawer, it chanced, at bottom lined With linen of the softest kind, With such as merchants introduce From India, for the ladies' use, A drawer impending o'er the rest, Half open in the topmost chest, Of depth enough, and none to spare, Invited her to slumber there; Puss with delight beyond expression, Survey'd the scene and took possession. Recumbent at her ease. ere long, And lull'd by her own humdrum song, She left the cares of life behind,

And slept as she would sleep her last, When in came, housewifely inclined,

The cha.nbermaid, and shut it fast; By no malignity impell'd, But all unconscious whom it held.

Awaken'd by the shock (cried Puss) "Was ever cat attended thus? The open drawer was left, I see, Merely to prove a nest for me, For soon as I was well composed, Then came the maid, and it was closed.

*Cowper's partiality to animals is well known. Lady Hesketh, in one of her letters, states, "that he had, at one ime, five rabbits, three hares, two guinea-pigs, a magpie, a jay, and a starling; besides two goldfinches, two canary birds, and two dogs. It is amazing how the three .hares can find room to gambol and frolic (as they certainly do) in his small parlor:" and she adds, "I forgot to enumerate a squirrel, which he had at the same time, and which used to play with one of the hares continually. One evening, the cat giving one of the hares a sound box on the ear, the hare ran after her, and, having caught her, punished her by drumming on her back with her two feet as hard as drun-sticks, till the creature would have actually been killed, had not Mrs. Unwin rescued her."

How smooth these 'kerchiefs, and how sweet
O what a delicate retreat!

I will resign myself to rest
Till Sol, declining in the west,
Shall call to supper, when, no doubt,
Susan will come and let me out."

The evening came, the sun descended, And Puss remain'd still unattended. The night roll'd tardily away, (With her indeed 'twas never day,) The sprightly morn her course renew'd, The evening grey again ensued, And puss came into mind no more Than if entomb'd the day before. With hunger pinch'd, and pinch'd for room. She now presaged approaching doom, Nor slept a wink or purr'd, Conscious of jeopardy incurr'd.

That night, by chance, the poet watching, Heard an inexplicable scratching; His noble heart went pit-a-pat, And to himself he said-" What's that?" He drew the curtain at his side, And forth he peep'd, but nothing spied. Yet, by his ear directed, guess'd Something imprison'd in the chest, And doubtful what, with prudent care Resolved it should continue there. At length a voice which well he knew, A long and melancholy mew, Saluting his poetic ears, Consoled him and dispell'd his fears: He left his bed, he trod the floor, He 'gan in haste the drawers explore, The lowest first, and without stop The rest in order to the top. For 'tis a truth well known to most, That whatsoever thing is lost, We seek it, ere it come to light, In every cranny but the right. Forth skipp'd the cat, not now replete As erst, with airy self-conceit, Nor in her own fond apprehension A theme for all the world's attention, But modest, sober, cured of all Her notions hyperbolical, And wishing for a place of rest Anything rather than a chest. Then stepp'd the poet into bed With this reflection in his head :

MORAL. Beware of too sublime a cust Of your own worth and consequence: The man who dreams himself so great, And his importance of such weight, That all around, in all that's done, Must move and act for him alone, Will learn in school of tribulation The folly of his expectation.

1791.

THE JUDGMENT OF THE POETS.

Two nymphs, both nearly of an age,

Of numerous charms possess'd,
A warm dispute once chanced to wage,
Whose temper was the best.

The worth of each had been complete Had both alike been mild.

YARDLEY OAK.*

SURVIVOR Sole, and hardly such, of all
That once lived here, thy brethren, at my birth,
(Since which I number threescore winters past,)
A shatter'd veteran, hollow-trunk'd perhaps,
As now, and with excoriate forks deform,
Relics of ages! could a mind, imbued
With truth from heaven, created things adore,
I might with reverence kneel, and worship thee.
It seems idolatry with some excuse,
When our forefather Druids in their oaks
Imagined sanctity. The conscience, yet
Unpurified by an authentic act
Of amnesty, the meed of blood divine,
Loved not the light, but, gloomy, into gloom
Of thickest shades, like Adam after taste
Of fruit proscribed as to a refuge, fled.

Thou wast a bauble once, a cup and ball [jay
Which babes might play with; and the thievish
Secking her food with ease might have purloin'd
The auburn nut that held thee, swallowing down
Thy yet close-folded latitude of boughs
And all thine embryo vastness at a gulp.

*This tree had been known by the name of Judith for many ages. Perhaps it received that name on being planted by the Countess Judith, niece to the Conqueror, whom he gave in marriage to the English Earl Waltheof, with the counties of Northampton and Huntingdon as her dower.-'ide Letters, p. 301.

But fate thy growth decreed; autumnal rains Beneath thy parent tree mellow'd the soil Design'd thy cradle; and a skipping deer, With pointed hoof dibbling the glebe, prepared The soft receptacle, in which, secure,

Thy rudiments should sleep the winter through
So fancy dreams. Disprove it, if ye can.
Ye reasoners broad awake, whose busy search
Of argument. employ'd too oft amiss,
Sifts half the pleasures of short life away!

Thou fell'st mature; and, in the loamy clod
Swelling with vegetative force instinct.
Didst burst thine egg, as theirs the fabled twins,
Now stars; two lobes, protruding, pair'd exact;
A leaf succeeded, and another leaf,
And, all the elements thy puny growth
Fostering propitious. thou becamest a twig.
Who lived when thou wast such. Oh, could'st
thou speak,

As in Dodona once thy kindred trees
Oracular, I would not curious ask
The future, best unknown, but at thy mouth
Inquisitive, the less ambiguous past.

By thee I might correct, erroneous oft,
The clock of history, facts and events
Timing more punctual, unrecorded facts
Recovering, and misstated setting right-
Desperate attempt, till trees shall speak again!
Time made thee what thou wast, king of the
woods;

And time hath made thee what thou art-a cave For owls to roost in. Once thy spreading boughs O'erhung the champaign; and the numerous flocks

That grazed it stood beneath that ample cope
Uncrowded yet safe shelter'd from the storm.
No flock frequents thee now. Thou hast outlived
Thy popularity, and art become
(Unless verse rescue thee awhile) a thing
Forgotten as the foliage of thy youth. [push'd

While thus through all the stages thou hast Of treeship-first, a seedling, hid in grass; Then twig; then sapling; and. as century roll'd Slow after century, a giant bulk

Of girth enormous. with moss-cushion'd root, Upheaved above the soil, and sides emboss'd With prominent wens globose-till at the last The rottenness which time is charged to inflict On other mighty ones. found also thee.

What exhibitions various hath the world Witness'd of mutability in all That we account most durable below? Change is the diet on which all subsist, Created changeable, and change at last, Destroys them. Skies uncertain now the heat Transmitting cloudless and the solar beam Now quenching in a boundless sea of cloudsCalm and alternate storm inoisture, and drought, Invigorate by turns the springs of life In all that live, plant, animal, and man, And in conclusion mar them. Nature's threads Fine passing thought, e'en in their coarsest works Delight in agitation yet sustain The force that agitates not unimpair'd; But worn by frequent impulse to the cause Of their best tone their dissolution owe.

Thought cannot spend itself. comparing still The great and little of thy lot thy growth From almost nullity into a state

Of matchless grandeur and declension thence,
Slow, into such magnificent decay.
Time was when, settling on thy leaf, a fly