Fate fteals along with filent tread,
Found oft'neft in what least we dread,
Frowns in the ftorm with angry brow,
But in the funshine ftrikes the blow.

A

COMPARISON.

THE lapfe of time and rivers is the fame, Both speed their journey with a restless stream, The filent pace with which they steal away, No wealth can bribe, bribe, no pray'rs persuade to stay,

Alike irrevocable both when past,

And a wide ocean fwallows both at last.
Though each resemble each in ev'ry part,
A difference ftrikes at length the mufing heart;
Streams never flow in vain; where ftreams abound,
How laughs the land with various plenty crown'd!
But time that fhould enrich the nobler mind,
Neglected, leaves a dreary wafte behind.

AN OTHER.

Addreffed to a YOUNG LADY.

SWEET ftream that winds through yonder

glade,

Apt emblem of a virtuous maid

Silent and chafte fhe fteals along

Far from the world's gay bufy throng,

With gentle yet prevailing force
Intent upon her deftin'd course,
Graceful and ufeful all fhe does,
Bleffing and bleft where'er fhe goes,
Pure-bofom'd as that watʼry glass,
And heav'n reflected in her face.

VERSES, fuppofed to be written by ALEXANDER SELKIRK, during bis folitary Abode in the fland 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

Oh folitude! where are the charms

That fages have seen in thy face? Better dwell in the midst 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 beasts that roam over the plain, My form with indifference fee, They are fo unacquainted with man,, Their tameness is fhocking to me..

III.

Society, friendship, and love,
Divinely bestow'd upon man,

Oh had I the wings of a dove,
How foon wou'd 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 cheer'd by the fallies of youth.

IV.

Religion! what treasure untold
Refides in that heav'nly 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,
Ne'er figh'd at the found of a knell,
Or fmil'd when a fabbath appear'd.

V.

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

Some cordial endearing report

Of a land I fhall vifit no more.
My friends do they now and then send
A wifh or a thought after me?

O tell me I yet have a friend,

Though a friend I am never to fee.

VI.

Hoy feet is a glance of the the mind!
Compar'd with the fpeed of its fight,

The tempeft itself lags behind,

And the fwift winged arrows of light.

When

When I think of my own native land,

In a moment I feem to be there;
But alas! recollection at hand
Soon hurries me back to defpair.

VII.

But the fea fowl is gone to her neft,
The beaft is laid down in his lair,
Ev'n here is a feafon of reft,

And I to my cabin repair.
There is mercy in ev'ry place,
And mercy, encouraging thought I'
Gives even affliction a grace,
And reconciles man to his lot.

On the Promotion of EDWARD THURLOW, Efq. to the Lord High-Chancellorship of England.

I.

ROUND Thurlow's head in early youth,

And in his fportive days,

Fair fcience pour'd the light of truth,

And genius fhed his rays.