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STROPHE. Arabia's scorching fands he cross’d,
Where blasted Nature pants supine,
To Freedom's adamantine shrine ;
He snatch'd from under fell Oppression's wing ;
Th' all-chearing hymns of Liberty to fing.
Diffus'd thro' ev'ry bafer mould;
And turns the dross of Corfica to gold 1.
Pomp's tinsel'd liv'ry to despise :
Where varnish'd vice and vanity combin'd,
And forge vile shackles for the free-born mind: Where Infolence his wrinkled front uprears,
And all the flowers of fpurious fancy blow, And Title his ill-woven chaplet wears,
Full often wreath'd around the miscreant's brow:
* Arabia's scorching Sands, &c.] The Arabs, rather than refign their inde.. pendency, have often abandoned their habitations, and encountered all che horrors of the derart.
+ And many a Tartar bord, &c.] From the tyranny of Jenghis-Khan, Timar-Bec, and other eastern conquerors, whole tribes of Tartars were used to fily into the remotest wastes of Cathay, where no army would follow them.
| And turns the dross of Corsica, &c.] The noble stand made by Paschal, Paoli and his associates against the usurpation of the French king, mut endear them to all the fons of liberty and independence.
Wherever dimpling Palfhood, pert and vain,
Presents her cup of ftate profession's froth, And pale Disease, with all his blasted train,
Torments the fons of Gluttony and Sloth.
In Fortune's car behold that minion ride,
With either India's glittering spoils oppress’d : So moves the sumpter-mule, in harness'd pride,
That bears the treasure which he cannot taste. For him let venal bards disgrace the bay,
And hireling minstrels wake the tinkling string; Her sensual snares let faithless Pleasure lay,
And all her gingling bells fantastick Folly ring:
And Nature, still to all her feelings just,
By mountain, meadow, streamlet, grove, or cell, Where the pois'd lark his evening ditty chaunts,
And Health and Peace, and Contemplation, dwell. There Study shall with Solitude recline,
And Friendship pledge me to his fellow-swains; And Toil and Temperance sedately twine
The flender chord that fluttering life fuftains ; And fearless Poverty shall guard the door,
And Taste unspoil'd the fruyal table spread ;
And Sleep unbrib'd his dews refreshing shed:
ODE TO A SINGING 'BIRD.
BY MR. RICHARDSON.
Thou that glad'It my lonesome ḥours
With many a wildly warbled song,
When fell Adversity prepares
With all her host of carking cares ;
Sweet foother of my mifery, fay,
Why doft thou clap thy joyous wing?
Haft thou not cause to grieve
Thou should't, as well as he, receive ?
Perchance, unconscious of thy fate,
And to the woes of bondage blind,
Then how relentless he,
But why for thee this fond complaint?
Above thy master thou art bless’d!
Then deign with me to live ;
Shall ne'er thy destiny contrive;
Nor shall the fiend, fell Famine, dare
Thy wiry tenement affail;
And when the blooming spring
To thee officious will I bring ;
From drear Oblivion's gloomy cave
The powerful Mufe shall wrest thy name,
She knows thy liberal heart
And Melody's soft aid impart ;
Erewhile, when brooding o'er my soul
Frown'd the black demons of Despair,
If Fortune should be kind,
And when the weeping wretch. I find,
H, ftay!-Thy wand oblivious o'er my eyes
Yet wave, mild power of sleep!--My prayer is vain ! She flies; the partial nurse of Nature flies,
With all her foothing, visionary train !
Then let me forth, and near yon flowering thorn
pure breath ; while, rob’d in amber veft,
l Fresh from her watery couch, the youthful morn
Steals on the slumbers of the drowzy eaft.
Lo! at her presence, the strong arm of toil,
With glittering fickle mows the prime of May; While yon poor hirelings, for the mine's rude foil,
Leave to their sleeping babes their cots of clay,
With sturdy step, they chearly whiftle o'er
The path that Alings across the reedy plain, To the deep caverns of that yawning moor,
Whose shaggy break abhors the golden grain.