While others, consecrate to higher aims,

Whose hallowed bosoms glow with purer flames,
Love in their heart, persuasion in their tongue,-
With words of peace shall charm the listening throng,
Draw the dread veil that wraps the' eternal throne,
And launch our souls into the bright unknown.

Here cease my song. Such arduous themes require

A master's pencil and a poet's fire:

Unequal far such bright designs to paint,

Too weak her colours, and her lines too faint,
My drooping Muse folds up her fluttering wing,
And hides her head in the green lap of Spring.

THE GROANS OF THE TANKARD.

Dulci digne mero! HORAT.

Or strange events I sing, and portents dire;

The wondrous themes a reverent ear require: Though strange the tale, the faithful Muse believe,

And what she says, with pious awe receive.

'Twas at the solemn, silent, noon-tide hour,
When hunger rages with despotic power,
When the lean student quits his Hebrew roots
For the gross nourishment of English fruits,
And throws unfinished airy systems by

For solid pudding and substantial pie;

When hungry poets the glad summons own,
And leave spare Fast to dine with Gods alone:
Our sober meal dispatched with silent haste,
The decent grace concludes the short repast:
Then, urged by thirst, we cast impatient eyes
Where deep, capacious, vast, of ample size,
The Tankard stood, replenished to the brink
With the cold beverage blue-eyed Naiads drink.
But lo! a sudden prodigy appears,

And our chilled hearts recoil with startling fears:
Its yawning mouth disclosed the deep profound,
And in low murmurs breathed a sullen sound;
Cold drops of dew did on the sides appear;
No finger touched it, and no hand was near.

At length the' indignant vase its silence broke,

First heaved deep hollow groans, and then distinctly spoke.

"How changed the scene!-for what unpardoned crimes

"Have I survived to these degenerate times?

"I, who was wont the festal board to grace,

" And 'midst the circle lift my honest face

"White o'er with froth, like Etna crowned with snow,

"Which mantled o'er the brown abyss below, "Where Ceres mingled with her golden store

"The richer spoils of either India's shore,

"The dulcet reed the Western islands boast,

And spicy fruit from Banda's fragrant coast.

"At solemn feasts the nectared draught I poured,

"And often journeyed round the ample board: "The portly Alderman, the stately Mayor,

"And all the furry tribe my worth declare;

"And the keen Sportsman oft, his labours done,

"To me retreating with the setting sun,

"Deep draughts imbibed, and conquered land and sea,

"And overthrew the pride of France-by me.

"Let meaner clay contain the limpid wave, "The clay for such an office nature gave;

"Let China's earth, enriched with coloured stains,

"Penciled with gold, and streaked with azure veins,

"The grateful flavour of the Indian leaf,

"Or Mocho's sunburnt berry glad receive:

"The nobler metal claims more generous use,

"And mine should flow with more exalted juice.
"Did I for this my native bed resign

"In the dark bowels of Potosi's mine?
"Was I for this with violence torn away,

"And dragged to regions of the upper day?

"For this the rage of torturing furnace bore,

"From foreign dross to purge the brightening ore?

For this have I endured the fiery test,

"And was I stamped for this with Britain's lofty crest?

"Unblest the day, and luckless was the hour,

"Which doomed me to a Presbyterian's power: "Fated to serve the Puritanic race,

"Whose slender meal is shorter than their grace;