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(But in what chapter, page, or line,
Ye critics, if ye please, define,)
Both challenged the delicions prize,
Each hero's obstinately stout,
Whose kind and charitable heart
In human ills still bore a part, Thrice shook his head, and ibus began : “ Neighbours and friends. refer to me
This doughty matter in dispute,
I'll soon decide the important suit,
He opens it, and at one sup
Your oyster's good as e'er was eat,
I thank you for my dainty treat :
CHRIST'S INVITATION TO SINNERS,
Matt. xi. 28, 29, 30. OH, ye who sink beneath your weight of woes, Come unto me, and ye shall find repose. Come, learn of me, I lowly am, and meek ; Come, and your souls shall find the l'est they seek. Take my yoke on you, easy 'tis to bear; Bear but my burden, and my bliss you share. "Jan. 1, 1821.
TO LIBERTY'v'i - 1.0 AWAKE, thou blest spirit, that sleep’st with the dead! The mountain top's fragrance awaken, and shed Ou the smoke-eawreathed cities of soul-stifled men; Let them taste the fresh breezes of Freedom again! Oh Liberty, dear! who from heaven descended When lite first began, and shalt stay till 'tis ended, Thou long time hast slumber'd, now rise from thy pillow, And wipe off the dewdrops that dripped from the willow. No more sit deploring, thus sadly oʻersbaded, Thy armour so tarnished, its lustre so faded; Pai it on as it is, in the cause of the jast, The blood of oppressors shall cleanse it froni just! No longer with tears thy soiled laurels bedew, Thy sorrows will never their beaụty renew : Away to the field, then, distingnish the brave, Their blossom blows best over Tyranny's grave! Thy heroes are dead, with the minstrels who fired them, The bold hearts are still with the hands that hispired The harp, too, that swelled their proud breasts in the
fight, Is mute, or but heard 'mid the revels of night. But rouse thee, and fly to the field where they lay, While yet the warm life-stream doth sodden their clay, While beams in their eyes the blest spirit of pride, For which they have fought, and for which they baye
died! Thou yet may'st redeem, not their armoar sở bright, Nor helms with plumes waving so lovely and light; Ah no! they have stripped them, and left them to lie, With gore for their clothing, their covering the sky! Thou y t njay'st redeem, not the bright steet they
1$ welded The scarfs which adorned them, or bucklers that shield. Their glory, too, fell when their masters lay low, fed ; And now taintly gleam in the halls of the fue. i
Thou yet may’st redeem, not the life-stream that flowed
From many a bursting, heroic abode,
ocean, Till 'neath thy blest banner, all fresh and unfurled, Are gathered the glory and pride of the world. All grief will be banished, forgotten all sorrow, Each hand and each heart will prepare for the morrow; The maids as they rush from the arms of their mothers, Will tear their long hair for the helms of their brotheis! The light flame of love, and the blush of desire, Shall rise to resentment, and redden to ire; E'en Beauty for Freedom its fair form will yield, And proudly bear Valour's bright arms to the field. And ob, what a scene! how triumphant in glory O'er all man e'er witnessed, or fabled in story; When thou leadest them on to the sphere of the brave, To conquer, or perish with thee in the grave. How blissful the pleasure, how godlike the pride, To triumph with thee, or to die by thy side: And oh, with what rapture shall future tongues tell Of those, who, for Liberty, conquered or fell! And who shall oppose ye? Can tyrants, whose cause Is black as their hearts, and unjust as their laws, Whose soldiers are slaves, (and how few shall they be,) Can they cope with men who are fighting for thee:
Ah no! as the lightening with horrific stroke,
boughs, So thou shalt descend on thy impotept fues ! Once mor., then, away: let the breasts of the bold Be now and for ever thy throne and strong bold; For treacherouts and base are the hearts that revile thee, And cursed, and thrice cursed, are the lands that exile thee!
first two stanzus.
And, besides, we have plenty of food and of clothes, Not a want, unsupplied, any one of us knows; Then why should we care for the frost or the spow? 'Tis only the poor that need mind that, you kuow." "Tis true we are sheltered, and well clothed and fed, Whilst thousands and thousands are pining for bread; But ought we not, think you, to feel for their grief, And to do all we can to afford them relief? Oh, ought we, unmoved, their distresses to see? Are they not as deserving of kindness as we? And if Heaven has on thein bestowed less than on others, Twas to give them a claim to the aid of their brothers. E’en gratitude, surely, for so much of bliss, Oh ye men of the world, should incite ye to this : Think, think of the comforts that fall to your share, And give that to the needy which well ye can spare. Nor, if ye do this, will ye lose your reward, “He who gives to the poor, does but lend to the Lord;' And how mean all the pleasures your riches can buy, "Toʻlhat heavenly bliss which the good will enjoy!
Jan. 3, 1821.
HORÁCE, ODE 1. PARTLY IMITATED.
SOME are fond of gin and rum,
B. O, N,
LINES TO A YOUNG LADY.