Her eye intent on all the mazy plan,
She form'd of various parts the various man.

Then first she calls the useful many forth; Plain plodding industry and sober worth: Thence peasants, farmers, native sons of earth, And merchandise' whole genus take their

birth:

Each prudent cit a warm existence finds,
And all mechanics' many apron'd kinds.
Some other rarer sorts are wanted yet,
The lead and buoy are needful to the net;
The caput mortuum of gross desires
Makes a material for mere knights and
squires;

The martial phosphorus is taught to flow,
She kneads the lumpish philosophic dough,
Then marks th' unyielding mass with grave
designs,

Law, physics, politics, and deep divines:
Last, she sublimes th' Aurora of the poles,
The flashing elements of female souls.

The little fate allows, they share as soon, Unlike sage, proverb'd Wisdom's hard-wrung boon.

The world were blest did bless on them depend,

Ah, that "the friendly e'er should want a friend!"

Let prudence number o'er each sturdy son,
Who life and wisdom at one race begun,
Who feel by reason, and who give by rule,
(Instinct's a brute, and sentiment a fool !)
Who make poor will do wait upon I should-
We own they're prudent, but who feels they're
good?

Ye wise ones, hence! ye hurt the social eye!
God's image rudely etch'd on base alloy!
But come ye who the godlike pleasure know,
Heaven's attribute distinguish'd-to bestow!
Whose arms of love would grasp the human

race:

Come thou who giv'st with all a courtier's grace;

Friend of my life, true patron of my rhymes!
Prop of my dearest hopes for future times.
Why shrinks my soul half blushing, half
afraid,

Backward, abash'd to ask thy friendly aid?
I know my need, I know thy giving hand,
I crave thy friendship at thy kind command;
But there are such who court the tuneful
nine-

Heavens! should the branded character be mine!

Whose verse in manhood's pride sublimely flows,

Yet vilest reptiles in their begging prose.
Mark, how their lofty independent spirit
Soars on the spurning wing of injur'd merit!
Seek not the proofs in private life to find;
Pity the best of words should be but wind!
So, to heaven's gates the lark's shrill song
ascends,

But grovelling on the earth the carol ends.
In all the clam'rous cry of starving want,
They dun benevolence with shameless front;
Oblige them, patronise their tinsel lays,
They persecute you all your future days!
Ere my poor soul such deep damnation stain,
My horny fist assumes the plough again;
The piebald jacket let me patch once more;
On eighteen-pence a week, I've liv'd before.
Though, thanks to Heaven, I dare even that
last shift,

I trust meantime my boon is in thy gift:
That plac'd by thee upon the wish'd-for height,
Where, man and nature fairer in her sight,
My muse may imp her wing for some sublim-
er flight.*

*This is our Poet's first epistle to Graham of Fin try. It is not equal to the second; but it contains too much of the characteristic vigour of its author to be sup pressed. A little more knowledge of natural history, or of chemistry, was wanted to enable him to execute the original conception correctly.

Ye sprightly youths, quite flush with hope and spirit,

Who think to storm the world by dint of merit, To you the dotard has a deal to say,

In his sly, dry, sententious, proverb way! He bids you mind, amid your thoughtless rattle,

That the first blow is ever half the battle; That tho' some by the skirt may try to snatch him;

Yet by the forelock is the hold to catch him; That whether doing, suffering, or forbearing You may do miracles by persevering.

Last, tho' not least in love, ye youthful fair, Angelic forms, high Heaven's peculiar care! To you old Bald-pate smooths his wrinkled brow,

And humbly begs you'll mind the important—

now!

To crown your happiness he asks your leave, And offers, bliss to give and to receive.

For our sincere, tho' haply weak endeavours, With grateful pride we own your many favours;

And howsoe'er our tongues may ill reveal it, Believe our glowing bosoms truly feel it.

"You're one year older this important day," If wiser too-he hinted some suggestion, But 'twould be rude, you know, to ask the

question;

LIFE ne'er exulted in so rich a prize,
As Burnet, lovely from her native skies;
Nor envious death so triumph'd in a blow,
As that which laid the accomplish'd Burnet
low.

Thy form and mind, sweet maid, can I forget?
In richest ore the brightest jewel set!
In thee, high Heaven above was truest shown
As by his noble work the Godhead best is
known.

In vain ye flaunt in summer's pride, ye groves; Thou crystal streamlet with thy flowery shore, Ye woodland choir that chant your idle loves, Ye cease to charm-Eliza is no more!

"think!"

To you I fly, ye with my soul accord.

worth,

Shall venal lays their pompous exit hail? And thou, sweet excellence! forsake our earth, And not a muse in honest grief bewail?

We saw thee shine in youth and beauty's pride, And virtue's light, that beams beyond the spheres ;

But like the sun eclips'd at morning tide, Thou left'st us darkling in a world of tears.

The parent's heart that nestled fond in thee, That heart how sunk, a prey to grief and

care!

So deckt the woodbine sweet yon aged tree,
So from it ravish'd, leaves it bleak and bare.

foe,

Go, frighten the coward and slave; Go, teach them to tremble, fell tyrant! but know,

No terrors hast thou to the brave!

Thou strik'st the dull peasant-he sinks in the dark,

Nor saves e'en the wreck of a name; Thou strik'st the young hero-a glorious mark! He falls in the blaze of his fame!

In the field of proud honour-our swords in our hands,

Our King and our country to saveWhile victory shines on life's last ebbing sands, O who would not rest with the brave!

Most humbly own-'tis dear, dear admiration! In that blest sphere alone we live and move; There taste that life of life-immortal love.Smiles, glances, sighs, tears, fits, flirtations, airs,

Thou man of crazy care and ceaseless sigh, Still under bleak Misfortune's blasting eye; Doom'd to that sorest task of man alive

When awful Beauty joins with all her charms,

Who is so rash as rise in rebel arms?