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But we, in mutual bondage knit

Of friendship's closeft tie, Can gaze on even Darwin's wit

With an unjaundiced eye;

And deem the Bard, whoever he be,

And howfoever known,

Who would not twine a wreath for Thee,
Unworthy of his own.

ON

MRS. MONTAGUE's

FEATHER-HANGINGS.

THE birds put off their every hue

To drefs a room for Montague.

The Peacock fends his heavenly dyes,

His rainbows and his starry eyes;

The Pheasant, plumes, which round infold
His mantling neck with downy gold;
The Cock, his arched tail's azure show;

And, river-blanched, the Swan, his fnow.

All tribes befide of Indian name,
That gloffy fhine or vivid flame,

Where rifes, and where fets the day,
Whatever they boaft of rich and gay,
Contribute to the gorgeous plan,
Proud to advance it all they can.
This plumage neither dashing shower,
Nor blafts, that shake the dripping bower,
Shall drench again or difcompose,

But fcreened from every storm that blows,
It boasts a splendour ever new,
Safe with protecting Montague.

To the fame patronefs refort,
Secure of favour at her court,

Strong Genius, from whose forge of thought
Forms rife, to quick perfection wrought,
Which, though new-born, with vigour move,
Like Pallas fpringing armed from Jove-
Imagination fcattering round
Wild rofes over furrowed ground,
Which labour of his frown beguile,
And teach Philosophy a smile-
Wit flashing on Religion's fide,
Whofe fires to facred Truth applied,
The gem, though luminous before,

Obtrude on human notice more,

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Like fun-beams on the golden height
Of fome tall temple playing bright-
Well-tutored Learning, from his books
Difmiffed with grave, not haughty, looks,
Their order on his fhelves exact,
Not more harmonious or compact
Than that, to which he keeps confined
The various treafures of his mind-
All these to Montague's repair,

Ambitious of a fhelter there.

There Genius, Learning, Fancy, Wit,
Their ruffled plumage calm refit,
(For ftormy troubles loudeft roar
Around their flight who highest foar)
`And in her eye, and by her aid,
Shine fafe without a fear to fade.

She thus maintains divided sway
With yon bright regent of the day;
The Plume and Poet both we know.
Their luftre to his influence owe;
And the the works of Phoebus aiding,
Both Poet faves and Plume from fading.

VERSES

SUPPOSED TO BE WRITTEN BY ALEX. SELKIRK,

DURING HIS SOLITARY ABODE IN THE

ISLAND OF JUAN FERNANDEZ.

I.

I AM monarch of all I furvey,

My right there is none to difpute;
From the centre all round to the fea,
I am lord of the fowl and the brute.
Oh folitude! where are the charms,
That fages have seen in thy face?
Better dwell in the midft of alarms,
Than reign in this horrible place.
II.

I am out of humanity's reach,

I must finish my journey alone, Never hear the fweet mufic of speech, I ftart at the found of my own. The beafts, that roam over the plain, My form with indifference fee; They are fo unacquainted with man, Their tamenefs is fhocking to me.

III.

Society, friendship, and love,
Divinely beftowed upon man,
Oh, had I the wings of a dove,

How foon would I tafte you again!
My forrows I then might affuage

In the ways of religion and truth, Might learn from the wisdom of age, And be cheered by the fallies of youth.

IV.

Religion! what treasure untold

Refides in that heavenly word! More precious than filver and gold, Or all that this earth can afford. But the found of the church-going bell Thefe vallies and rocks never heard, Never fighed at the found of a knell, Or fmiled when a fabbath appeared.

V.

Ye winds, that have made me your sport, Convey to this defolate shore

Some cordial endearing report

Of a land, I fhall vifit no more. My friends, do they now and then fend

A with or a thought after me? O tell me I yet have a friend,

Though a friend I am never to fee.

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