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The laurel wreath, by glory's hand
Twin'd round her awful brow,
She rent in fury now.
Away her useless spear;
What pride the pomp of war.
“ Of William's perjured truth! “ Behold the Orphan, who relied
« On a false guardian's oath. “ How couldst thou with a lover's zeal,
My widow'd cause espouse, “ Yet quit that cause, you serv'd so well,
“ In scorn of all thy vows ? " How couldst thou swear,wealth,titles, power,
Thy candour would disclaim; “ Yet barter, in an evil hour,
" That candour for a name?
u How couldst thou win my easy heart,
“ A patriot to believe? “ How could I know, but by the smart,
“ A patriot would deceive?
Thy vows to me unpaid ;
Thy country's weal betrayed.
“ On thy devoted head; " Living be thou the scorn of all,
« The curse of all when dead.” This said, while thunder round her broke,
She vanished into air ;
Was followed by despair.
ON THE ARRIVAL
ARRIVE in safety all ye
* It was uncertain whether he was a Whig or a Jacobite, whether very brave or a coward; for he had fought several duels, and had run away in the Rebellion. He was a troublesome, tiresome, speaker, but now and then tempered with good sense.-W.
HOR. LIB. II. ODE XVI.--Otium Divos, &c.
INSCRIBED TO THE EARL OF BATH.
IN each ambitious measure crost,
At length you ask the gods for ease.
As wealth may tempt, or titles please.
For not the Treasurer, Staff, and all
Can ease the self-devoted mind.
Care stays, when none else dare, behind.
How happier at his frugal board
Who acts within his proper sphere; Whilst honest Morpheus o'er his brows, His choicest wildest poppies strows, And sleep, the gods best gift, bestows,
Unbroke by avarice or fear.
Why flies our arrow to those heights ? Our feeble thread spun by the Fates, Each hour the fatal Scissars waits,
Nor will one moment's pause afford ! We bustle to be raised on high, New lands explore, new suns descry, Alas ! 'twere well could self, too, fly,
And lose the squire in the lord.
Beyond the present hour forbear,