That instinct is a surer guide

Than reason-boasting mortals' pride,

And that brute beasts are far before 'em:

Deus est anima brutorum.8

Who ever knew an honest brute

At law his neighbour prosecute;

Bring action for assault and battery,

Or friend beguile with lies and flattery? O'er plains they ramble unconfin'd,

No politics disturb their mind;

They eat their meals, and take their sport,

Nor know who's in or out at court;

They never to the levee go

To treat as dearest friend a foe;

They never importune his grace,

Nor ever cringe to men in place;
Nor undertake a dirty job,

Nor draw the quill to write for Bob.9
Fraught with invective they ne'er go

To folks at Paternoster-row;

No judges, fiddlers, dancing-masters,

No pickpockets, or poetasters,

Are known to honest quadrupeds ;
No single brute his fellows leads;
Brutes never meet in bloody fray,
Nor cut each other's throats for pay.
Of beasts, it is confess'd, the ape
Comes nearest us in human shape:
Like man he imitates each fashion,
And malice is his ruling passion;
But both in malice and grimaces,

A courtier any ape surpasses.
Behold him, humbly cringing, wait
Upon the minister of state;

View him soon after to inferiors

Aping the conduct of superiors:
He promises with equal air,
And to perform takes equal care.
He in his turn finds imitators :

At court, the porters, lackeys, waiters,
Their masters' manners still contract-
And footmen, lords and dukes can act.
Thus at the court, both great and small
Behave alike for all ape all.

A MADRIGAL.10

WEEPING, murmuring, complaining, Lost to every gay delight

Myra, too sincere for feigning,

Fears the approaching bridal night.

Yet why impair thy bright perfection, Or dim thy beauty with a tear? Had Myra follow'd my direction,

She long had wanted cause of fear.

STANZA S.

ON

THE TAKING OF QUEBEC."

AMIDST the clamour of exulting joys,

Which triumph forces from the patriot heart, Grief dares to mingle her soul-piercing voice,

And quells the raptures which from pleasures start.

O Wolfe, to thee a streaming flood of woe,

Sighing we pay, and think e'en conquest dear;

Quebec in vain shall teach our breast to glow,

Whilst thy sad fate extorts the heart-wrung tear.

Alive, the foe thy dreadful vigour fled,

And saw thee fall with joy-pronouncing eyes;

Yet they shall know thou conquerest, though dead— Since from thy tomb a thousand heroes rise!

AN ELEGY ON THAT GLORY OF HER SEX,

MRS MARY BLAIZE.12

GOOD people all, with one accord
Lament for madam Blaize,
Who never wanted a good word-
From those who spoke her praise.

The needy seldom pass'd her door,
And always found her kind;
She freely lent to all the poor-
Who left a pledge behind.

She strove the neighbourhood to please, With manners wondrous winning; And never follow'd wicked ways

Unless when she was sinning.