TO WILLIAM WILBERFORCE. Thy country, Wilberforce, with just disdain, Hears thee by cruel men and impious, called Fanatic, for thy zeal to loose th'enthrall'd 1792. From exile, public sale, and slavery's chain. Hope smiles, joy springs, and though cold caution pause That shall remunerate thy toils severe, By peace for Afric, fenced with British laws. Enjoy what thou hast won, esteeem and love From all the just on earth, and all the bless'd above. TO WILLIAM HAYLEY, ESQ. 1793. Dear architect of fine CHATEAUX in air, O for permission from the skies to share, But I am bankrupt now; and doom'd henceforth VERSES SENT TO LADY AUSTEN, DURING THE TIME OF A FLOOD, AUGUST, 1782. To watch the storms, and hear the sky To shake with cold, and see the plains SONG ON PEACE. WRITTEN AT THE REQUEST OF LADY AUSTEN, 1783. No longer I follow a sound; I have sought thee in splendor and dress, An humble ambition and hope The voice of true wisdom inspires ; 'Tis sufficient, if Peace be the scope, And the summit of all our desires. Peace may be the lot of the mind But rapture and bliss are confined SONG, WRITTEN AT THE REQUEST OF LADY AUSTEN. WHEN all within is peace, How nature seems to smile! Delights that never cease, The livelong day beguile. And soothe the silent hours. It is content of heart Gives nature power to please; Can make a wintry sky Seem bright as smiling May, And evening's closing eye The vast majestic globe, So beauteously array'd A dreary wild at best ; It flutters to depart, And longs to be at rest. TO GEORGE ROMNEY, Esq. ON HIS PICTURE OF ME IN CRAYONS, DRAWN AT Romney, expert infallibly to trace TO MY COUSIN ANNE BODHAM, ON RECEIVING HER A PURSE. 1793. My gentle Anne, whom heretofore, I danced and fondled on my knee, Gold pays the worth of all things here; I therefore, as a proof of love, The best things kept within it. EPITAPH ON JOHNSON. JANUARY, 1785. Here Johnson lies-a sage by all allow'd, Whom to have bred, may well make England proud, Whose prose was eloquence, by wisdom taught, Whose verse may claim-grave, masculine, and stron O man, immortal by a double prize, THE BIRD'S NEST, A TALE. 1793. This Tale is founded on an anecdote which the Author found in the Buckinghamshire Herald, for Saturday, June 1st, 1793, in the following words: Glasgow, May 23.-In a block or pulley, near the head of the mast of a gabert, now lying at the Broomielaw, there is a Chaffinch's nest and four eggs. The nest was built while the vessel lay at Greenock, and was followed hither by both birds. Though the block is occasionally lowered for the inspection of the curious, the birds have not forsaken the nest. The cock, however, visits the nest but seldom, while the hen never leaves it, but when she descends to the hull for food. IN Scotland's realm, where trees are few, But where, however bleak the view, For husband there and wife may boast And false ones are as rare almost, In Scotland's realm forlorn and bare, This history of a wedded pair, The spring drew near, each felt a breast They paired and would have built a nest, The heaths uncovered and the moors, Except with snow and sleet, Sea-beaten rocks and naked shores Could yield them no retreat. |