So, manners decent and polite,

The same we practis'd at first sight,

Must save it from declension.

The man who hails you Tom-or Jack,
And proves by thumping on your back
His sense of your great merit,
Is such a friend, that one had need
Be very much his friend indeed,

To pardon, or to bear it.

Some friends make this their prudent plan66 Say little, and hear all you can ?"

Safe policy, but hateful.

So barren sands imbibe the show'r,
But render neither fruit nor flow'r
Unpleasant and ungrateful

They whisper trivial things, and small;
But, to communicate at all

Things serious, deem improper;
Their fcculence and froth they show,
But keep their best contents below,
Just like a simm'ring copper.

These samples (for alas! at last
These are but samples, and a taste
Of evils yet unmentioned)
May prove the task, a task indeed,
In which 'tis much, if we succeed,
However well-intention'd.

Pursue the theme, and you shall find
A disciplin'd and furnish'd mind
To be at least expedient,
And after summing all the rest,
Religion ruling in the breast

A principal ingredient.

True friendship has, in short, a grace
More than terrestrial in its face,

That proves it heav'n-descended:
Man's love of woman not so pure,
Nor, when sincerest, so secure
To last till life is ended

ON THE LOSS OF THE ROYAL GEORGE

[To the March in Scipio.]

WRITTEN WHEN THE NEWS ARRIVED

[September, 1782.]

TOLL for the brave!

The brave that are no more,

All sunk beneath the wave,

Fast by their native shore!

Eight hundred of the brave,

Whose courage well was tried,

Had made the vessel heel,

And laid her on her side.

at was not in the battle;

No tempest gave the shock;

She sprang no fatal leak;

She ran upon no rock.

His sword was in his sheath;
His fingers held the pen,

When Kempenfelt went down,

With twice four hundred men.

Weigh the vessel up,

Once dreaded by our foes!

And mingle with our cup,

The tear that England owes.

Her timbers yet are sound,

And she may float again,

Full-charg'd with England's thunder, And plough the distant main.

But Kempenfelt is gone,

His victories are o'er ;

And he and his eight hundred,

Shall plough the wave no more. 10*

IN SUBMERSIONEM NAVIGII, CUI GEORGIUS REGALIS NOMEN, INDITUM.

PLANGIMUS fortes.

Periere fortes,

Patrium propter periere littus

His quater centum; subito sub alto
Equore mersi.

Navis, innitens lateri, jacebat,
Malus ad summas trepidabat undas,
Cum levis, funes quatiens, ad imum
Depulit aura.

Plangimus fortes. Nimis, heu, caducam
Fortibus vitam volucre parcæ,
Nec sinunt ultra tibi nos recentes
Nectere laurus.

Magne, qui nomen, licet incanorum,
Traditum ex multis atavis tulisti!
At tuos olim memorabit ævum
Omne triumphos.

Non hyems illos furibunda mersit,
Non mari in clauso scopuli latentes,
Fissa non rimis abies, nec atrox
Abstulit ensis.

Navitæ sed tum nimium jocosi
Voce fallebant hilari laborem,

Et quiescebat calamoque dextram im-
pleverat heros.

Vos, quibus cordi est grave opus piumque,
Humidum ex alto spolium levate,

Et putrescentes sub aquis amicos

Reddite amicis!

Hi quidem (sic dis placuit) fuere :
Sed ratis, nondum putris, ire possit
Rursus in bellum, Britonumque nomen
Tollcre ad astra

SONG

ON PEACE.

WRITTEN IN THE SUMMER OF 1763, AT THE REQUEST

OF LADY AUSTEN, WHO GAVE THE SENTIMENT.

Air-"My fond shepherds of late," &c.

No longer I follow a sound;

No longer a dream I pursue :
O happiness! not to be found,
Unattainable treasure, adieu!

I have sought thee in splendour and dress,
In the regions of pleasure and taste;
I have sought thee, and seem'd to possess,
But have prov'd thee a vision at last.

An humble ambition and hope

The voice of true wisdom inspires : "Tis sufficient, if Peace be the scope,

And the summit of all our desires.

Peace may be the lot of the mind

That seeks in it meekness and love;

But rapture and bliss are confin'd

To the glorified spirits above.