Oн could my mind, unfolded in my page,
Enlighten climes and mould a future age;
There as it glowed, with noblest frenzy fraught,
Dispense the treasures of exalted thought;

To Virtue wake the pulses of the heart,

Oh could it still, thro' each succeeding year,

My life, my manners, and my name endear;
And, when the poet sleeps in silent dust,

Still hold communion with the wise and just!

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Yet should this Verse, my leisure's best resource,

When thro' the world it steals its secret course,

Revive but once a generous wish supprest,

Chase but a sigh, or charm a care to rest;

In one good deed a fleeting hour employ,

Or flush one faded cheek with honest joy;
Blest were my lines, tho' limited their sphere,

Tho' short their date, as his who traced them here.

CONTENTS.

THE Pleasures of Memory

Epistle to a Friend.

Ode to Superstition..

Written to be spoken in a Theatre .. .