For mortified he was to that degree,

A poorer than himself he would not see.
True priests, he said, and preachers of the Word,
Were only stewards of their Sovereign LORD:
Nothing was theirs, but all the public store;
Entrusted riches, to relieve the poor,
Who, should they steal for want of his relief,
He judged himself accomplice with the thief.

Wide was his parish; not contracted close
In streets, but here and there a straggling house;
Yet still he was at hand, without request,
To serve the sick, to succour the distrest;
Tempting, on foot, alone, without affright,
The dangers of a dark tempestuous night.

THE PARISH PRIEST.

All this the good old man performed alone,
Nor spared his pains, for curate he had none;
Nor durst he trust another with his care;
Nor rode himself to Paul's, the public fair,

To chaffer for preferment with his gold,
Where bishoprics and sinecures are sold;
But duly watched his flock by night and day,
And from the prowling wolf redeemed the prey,
And hungry sent the wily fox away.

The proud he tamed, the penitent he cheered,
Nor to rebuke the rich offender feared.
His preaching much, but more his practice wrought
(A living sermon of the truths he taught);

For this by rules severe his life he squared,
That all might see the doctrine which they heard.
For priests, he said, are patterns for the rest
(The gold of heaven, who bear the GoD imprest);
But when the precious coin is kept unclean,
The sov'reign's image is no longer seen.
If they be foul on whom the people trust,
Well may the baser brass contract a rust.

N days of old, when Arthur filled the throne,
Whose acts and fame to foreign lands were blown,
The King of Elves, and little Fairy Queen,
Gambolled on heaths and danced on every green;
And where the jolly troop had led the round,
The grass unbidden rose, and marked the ground:
Nor darkling did they glance, the silver light
Of Phoebe served to guide their steps aright,
And, with their tripping pleased, prolonged the night.
Her beams they followed, where at full she played,
Not longer than she shed her horns they stayed;"
From thence with airy flight to foreign lands conveyed.
Above the rest our Britain held they dear,

More solemnly they kept their Sabbaths here,

And made more spacious rings, and revelled half the

year.

I speak of ancient times, for now the swain

Returning late, may pass the woods in vain,
And never hope to see the nightly train.
In vain the dairy now with mint is drest,

The dairymaid expects no fairy guest

To skim the bowls, and after pay the feast.
She sighs, and shakes her empty shoes in vain,
No silver penny to reward her pain,

“THERE IS A TIDE IN THE affairs of mEN.”

For priests, with prayers and other godly gear,

Have made the merry goblins disappear,

And where they played their merry pranks before,
Have sprinkled holy water on the floor.

here is a ide in the Affairs of Men."

EAVEN has to all allotted, soon or late,

Some lucky revolution of their fate,

Whose motions if we watch and guide with skill,
(For human good depends on human will)
Our fortune rolls as from a smooth descent,

And from the first impression takes the bent;
But if unseized, it glides away like wind,
And leaves repenting folly far behind.

On the Death of John Graham of Claverhouse, Earl of Dundee.

H, last and best of Scots! who didst maintain
Thy country's freedom from a foreign reign,
New people fill the land now thou art gone,
New Gods the temples, and new kings the throne.
Scotland and thee did each in other live,
Nor wouldst thou her, nor could she thee, survive.
Farewell! who dying didst support the state,
And could not fall but with thy country's fate.

:

NBOUNDED courage and compassion joined,
Tempering each other in the victor's mind,
Alternately proclaim him good and great,
And make the hero and the man complete.
Long did he strive th' obdurate foe to gain
By proffered grace, but long he strove in vain ;
Till, fired at length, he thinks it vain to spare
His rising wrath, and gives a loose to war.