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LINES ADDRESSED TO DR. DARWIN,
THE BOTANIC GARDEN."
Two Poets,* (poets, by report,
Not oft so well agree,)
Conspire to honour thee.
Who oft themselves have known
a poetic birth
Though various, yet complete,
And learned as 'tis sweet.
No envy mingles with our praise,
Though, could our hearts repine
They would-they must at thine.
Of friendship’s closest tie,
With an unjaundiced eye ; Alluding to the poem by Mr. Hayley, which accompanied these lines.
And deem the Bard, whoe'er he be,
And howsoever known,
Unworthy of his own.
ON MRS. MONTAGU'S FEATHER-HANGINGS.
The birds put off their every hue
The peacock sends his heavenly dyės,
To the same patroness resort, Secure of favour at her court, Strong Genius, from whose forge of thought Forms rise, to quick perfection wrought, Which, though new-born, with vigour move, Like Pallas springing arm d from JoveImagination scattering round Wild roses over furrow'd ground, Which Labour of his frown beguile, And teach Philosophy a smileWit flashing on Religion's side, Whose fires, to sacred Truth applied, The gem, though luminous before, Obtrude on human notice more, Like sunbeams on the golden height Of some tall temple playing brightWell tutor'd Learning, from his books Dismiss'd with grave, not haughty, looks, Their order on his shelves exact, Not more harmonious or compact Than that to which he keeps confined The various treasures of his mind-All these to Montagu's repair, Ambitious of a shelter there. There Genius, Learning, Fancy, Wit, Their ruffled plumage calm refit, (For stormy troubles loudest roar Around their flight who highest soar,) And in her eye, and by her aid, Shine safe without a fear to fade.
She thus maintains divided sway
Supposed to be written by Alexander Selkirk, during his
solitary abode in the island of Juan Fernandez.
I am lord of the fowl and the brute.
That sages have seen in thy face?
Than reign in this horrible place.
I am out of humanity's reach,
I must finish my journey, alone,
I start at the sound of my own.
My form with indifference see;
Their tameness is shocking to me.
Society, friendship, and love,
Divinely bestow'd upon man, (, had I the wings of a dove,
How soon would I taste you again ! My sorrows I then might assuage
In the ways of religion and truth, Might learn from the wisdom of age,
And be cheer'd by the sallies of youth.
Religion! what treasure untold
Resides in that heavenly word!
Or all that this earth can afford.
These valleys and rocks never heard, Never sigh'd at the sound of a knell,
Or smiled when a sabbath appear’d.
Ye winds, that have made me your sport,
Convey to this desolate shore Some cordial endearing report
Of a land I shall visit no more. My friends, do they now and then send
A wish or a thought after me? O tell me I yet have a friend,
Though a friend I am never to see.
How fleet is the glance of the mind !
Compared with the speed of its flight, The tempest itself lags behind,
And the swift-winged arrows of light.