Taheite hears the clashing shell,

A deep, dread ftillnefs marks thy way;

And here, while anguish wounds each beauteous face;

Ye nymphs, devote the lock, and ftrew the branch of

peace."

VI.

"But think, (Omai heav'd the figh)

Ah! look beyond thefe liquid plains:

What griefs their pious hands employ,

Where Albion, queen of ocean, reigns,

Known by her zone of white, and azure stole,

Parent of gen'rous worth, the grandeur of the foul.

VII.

Whilom, fhe chid the wind's delay,
Gazing o'er all the depths below,

And wove the crown of verdure gay,
To grace her lov'd advent'rer's brow;

But

But Death, who mocks our cares, around his tomb

Bids the funereal wreath among her garlands bloom.

VIII.

Methinks, in glory's awful shrine,

(Where Death foregoes his wonted rage,

And still in quick'ning fculpture fhine

The mighty dead of ev'ry age)

Methinks I fee th' illuftrious feaman stand,

The wide earth in his ken, the plantane in his hand.

IX.

There are, who diftant climes explore,

Led by the rav'nous luft of prey,

And o'er the peaceful regions pour

The storms of war and wild difinay;

Envious of Indian blifs, the hut and shade,

With deeds of fell defign, their spoiling bands invade.

X.

X.

But lo! he comes, no ruffian foe;

But nobler aims fublime his foul,

To scan, where Heav'n's bright meteors glow,

To trace, where Ocean's billows roll.

While his bold prow bounds o'er the foaming deep,

Cease ye rude threats of war, ye ftorms obfequious fleep.

XI.

Secure he fteers the dubious way,

Th' obedient tempeft fleeps in peace;

Though hoftile war ufurp the fea,

For him its wafteful thunders cease;

But yet, ah! yet does pale Misfortune wait,

In treach❜rous garb array'd, to guide the lance of Fate.

XII.

Unpitying Fate! unfriendly doom!

Is virtue born to toil, and die?

Or

Or ftill for moons and moons to bloom,

In fome bleft region of the sky?

Why fpreads the gladfome Sun his golden plains ?

'Tis there, her wand'rings paft, unfading Virtue reigns.

XIII.

Wafted to yon more blissful fhore,

In fair Banana-bow'rs reclin'd,

He fills the choir of fouls, who bore

The toils of life, to bless mankind;

For whom, in ev'ry fhade, th' immortal feast,

The meed of earthly fame, falutes the ravifh'd tafte.”

PATRIOTISM.

Τιμηεν τε γαρ ἐςι, και αγλαον άνδρι, μαχεσθαι
Γης περί, και παίδων, κερίδης τ' άλοχε

How glow'd the kindling flames of hallow'd zeal,

As oft he mus'd by old Iliffus' ftream

On deeds of bold emprize and laurell'd fame;

And oft, as Fancy told the rapt'rous tale,

Survey'd in trophy'd pomp the hostile fhield and creft, Where Perfian Pride † receiv'd his wound,

And vanquifh'd myriads lick'd the ground;

When Freedom's fons unfheath'd the awful blade,

X

Το

+ Themiftocles..

On the plains of Marathon.