Of still domestic leisure breathe the soul

Of friendship, peace, and elegant delight
Beneath poetic shades, where leads the Muse
Through walks of fragrance, and the fairy groves
Where young ideas blossom?-Is there one

Whose tender hand, lenient of human woes,

Wards off the dart of death, and smooths the couch

Of torturing anguish? On so dear a name

May blessings dwell, honour, and cordial praise;

Nor need he be a brother to be loved.

CHAMPION of Truth, alike through Nature's field,

And where in sacred leaves she shines reveal'd,

Alike in both, eccentric, piercing, bold,

Like his own lightnings, which no chains can hold ; Neglecting caution, and disdaining art,

He seeks no armour for a naked heart :—

That like the sun illumines where it goes;
Travel the various map of Science o'er,

Record past wonders, and discover more;
Pour thy free spirit o'er the breathing page,
And wake the virtue of a careless age.
But O forgive, if touched with fond regret
Fancy recalls the scenes she can't forget,

Recalls the vacant smile, the social hours

Which charmed us once, for once those scenes were ours!

And while thy praises through wide realms extend,

We sit in shades, and mourn the absent friend.

So where the' impetuous river sweeps the plain,

Itself a sea, and rushes to the main ;

While its firm banks repel conflicting tides,

And stately on its breast the vessel glides;

Admiring much the shepherd stands to gaze,
Awe-struck, and mingling wonder with his praise :

Yet more he loves its winding path to trace

Through beds of flowers, and Nature's rural face,

While yet a stream the silent vale it cheered, By many a recollected scene endeared,

Where trembling first beneath the poplar shade

He tuned his pipe, to suit the wild cascade.

AN INVENTORY OF THE FURNITURE

IN DR. PRIESTLEY'S STUDY.

A MAP of every country known,

With not a foot of land his own.

A list of folks that kicked a dust

On this poor globe, from Ptol. the First;

He hopes, indeed it is but fair,—

Some day to get a corner there.

A group of all the British kings,

Fair emblem! on a packthread swings.

The Fathers, ranged in goodly row,

A decent, venerable show,

Writ a great while ago, they tell us,

And many an inch o'ertop their fellows.

A Juvenal to hunt for mottos ;

And Ovid's tales of nymphs and grottos.

The meek-robed lawyers, all in white;
Pure as the lamb,-at least, to sight.
A shelf of bottles, jar and phial,

By which the rogues he can defy all,—
All filled with lightning keen and genuine,
And many a little imp he'll pen you in;
Which, like Le Sage's sprite, let out,
Among the neighbours makes a rout;

Brings down the lightning on their houses,
And kills their geese, and frights their spouses.

A rare thermometer, by which

He settles, to the nicest pitch,
The just degrees of heat, to raise

Sermons, or politics, or plays.

Papers and books, a strange mixed olio,

From shilling touch to pompous folio;

Answer, remark, reply, rejoinder,

Fresh from the mint, all stamped and coined here;