On borrow'd wheels away she flies, Resolv'd to be unknown, And gratify no curious eyes That night, except her own. Arriv'd, a night like noon she sees, Pleas'd she beheld aloft pourtray'd Unlike the ænigmatick line, So difficult to spell, Which shock Belshazzar at his wine, Soon, wat'ry grew her eyes and dim, None else, except a pray'r for him, It was a scene in ev'ry part Like those in fable feign'd, And seem'd by some magician's art But other magick there, she knew, To raise such wonders in her view, That cordial thought her spirit cheer'd, And through the cumb'rous throng Not else unworthy to be fear'd, Convey'd her calm along. So, ancient poets say serene The sea-maid rides the waves, And fearless of the billowy scene Her peaceful bosom laves. With more than astronomick eyes Yet let the glories of a nigh Like that once seen, suffice, Heav'n grant us no such future sight, THE COCK-FIGHTER'S GARLAND. [May, 1789.] MUSE-Hide his name of whom I sing Nor speak the School from which he drew Nor place where he was born. That such a man once was, may seem Perchance may credit win) For proof to man, what man may prove, The source of guilt within. This man (for since the howling wild Gentle he was, if gentle birth Could make him such, and he had worth, If wealth can worth bestow. In social talk and ready jest Illustrious in the eyes of those Methinks I see him powder'd red, The mossy rose bud not so sweet Can such be cruel!-Such can be A tyrant, entertain'd With barb'rous sports, whose fell delight Was to encourage mortal fight "Twixt birds to battle train'd. One feather'd champion he possess'd, Which never knew disgrace, It chanced, at last, when, on a day, The Master storm'd, the prize was lost, He sciz'd him fast, and from the pit The horrid sequel asks a veil, And all the terrours of the tale That can he, shall be, sunk- All, suppliant beg a milder fate For the old warriour at the grate : Whirl'd round him rapid as a wheel Death menacing on all. But vengeance hung not far remote, Big with a curse too closely pent, Tis not for us, with rash surmise, "Tis hard to read amiss. ON THE BENEFIT RECEIVED BY HIS MAJESTY FROM SEA-BATHING, IN THE YEAR 1789. O Sov'REIGN of an isle renown'd With juster claim she builds at length And well may boast the waves her strength TRANSLATIONS FROM HORACE. HOR. LIB. I. ODE IX. Vides, ut alta stet nive candidum SEE'ST thou yon mountain laden with deep snow, The streams congeal'd forget to flow, Come, thaw the cold, and lay a cheerful pile Broach the best cask, and make old winter smile |