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TIS night, and hark! the eastern blast

1 With fury blows upon the shore;. The thunder rolls,—the rain pours fast,

And angry billows madly roar! Now for poor sailors' fate falls.many a tear, And many a bosom's filld with anxious fear. The morn returns still thunders roar si

Loud blows the wind-the billows foam-
Shall sailors greet their friends on shore,

Or see again their, much lov'd home ?
Alas! fo dire, fo ruthless is the storm,
No chance of safety Hope herself can form!
A briek now mingles with the blast;

Each sad foreboding proves too true;

See, on the rocks a ship is cast,

See, to the rigging clings the crew !
Ah! who the fury of the surge can brave,
And snatch the fuff?rers from a watery grave ?
Thy.sacred claims now, Pity, urge, e

Now prompt to beld exploit the brave
'Tis done--the Life-Boat cleaves the surge,

Intent the hapless crew to save; The wreck's approach'd-on board are all receiv'd, Rescued from danger, and from death reprievid.

Blow on, blow an, ye ruthless winds, ...?
* And idly rage, thou troubled main, isa
Snatch'd from your power, the failor finds : 7

His much-lov'd friends and home again,
And bleffes oft, with grateful heart, the name : Y
Of him whose genius did the Life-Boat frames
That name thall ever live renown'd; 15"

Alike to Fame and Albion dear, "/"
Whilst commerce spreads her fails around,

Whilft British tars the world revere; si
To latest ages still it shall descend,
Grac'd with the title of The Sailor's Friend.
Newcastlea t


On Mr Churchill's Death.
CAYS Tom to Richard, Churchill's dead

Says. Richard, Tom, you lie, : :
Old Rancour the report hath spread,
But Genius cannot die.


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T LANG hae thought, my youthfu' friend,
1 A something to have sent you,
Tho' it fhould serve nae other end

Than just a kind memento ;
But how the subject-theme may gang,

Let time and chance determine ;
Perhaps it may turn out a fang,

Perhaps turn out a sermon.
Ye'll try the world foon, my lad,

And Andrew dear, believe me,
Ye'll find manşind an unco' squad,

And muckle they may grieve ye: .
For care and trouble fet your thought,

Ev'n when your end's. attained;
And a your views may come to nought,

Where ev'ry nerve is strained. I
I'll no say, men are villain's a'; ".

The real, harden'd wicked,
Wha hae nae check but human law,

Are to a few restricked ::
But och, mankind are unco weak,

An' little to be trusted ;
If self the wavering balance shake,

Its rarely right adjusted !
Yet they wha fa' in fortune's strife, 3

Their fate we should na censure,
For still th’ important end of life,

They equally may answer; ing . A man may hae an honest heart,

Tho' poortith hourly stare him ; A man may tak a neebor's part,

Yet hae nae cash to spare him.

Ay free, aff han' your story tell,

When wi' a bosom crony;
But still keep something to yoursel

Ye scarcely tell to ony.
Conceal yoursel as weel's ye can.

Frae critical diffection;
But keek thro' ev'ry other man,-

Wi’ sharpen'd ly inspection. .
The sacred lowe o' weel-plac'd love,

Luxuriantly indulge it';
But never tempt th' illicit rove, . !

Tho'naething should divulge it: . . I wave the quantum o' the fin,. .

The hazard of concealing; . .
But och! it hardens a within,

And petrifies the feeling!
To catch dame Fortune's golden smile,

Asliduous wait upon her;
And gather gear by ev'ry wile

That's justified by honor; Not for to hide it in a hedge,

Nor for a train-attendant ;
But for the glorious privilege

Of being independent.
The fear o'hell's a hangman's whip

To haud the wretch in order;.
But where ye feel your honor grip,

Let that ay be your border: Its flightest touches, instant pause ,

Debar a' side pretences; And resolutely keep its laws,

Uncaring consequences. The great Creator to revere, · Müft sure become the creature ; . But still the preaching cant forbear,

And ev’n the rigid feature :

Yet ne'er with wits prophane' to range,

Be complaisance extended; .
An Atheist's laugh's a poor exchange

For Deity offended !
When ranting rouird in pleasure's ring,

Religion may be blinded; ,. .
Or if she gie a randon fting

It may be little minded;
But when on life we're tempest-driv'n,',

A conscience but a canker
A correspondence fix'd wi' Hear'n,

Is sure a noble anchor !
Adieu, dear, amiable youth!

Your heart can ne'er be wanting!
May prudence, fortitude, and truth,

Erect your brow undaunting!
In ploughman phrase; God send you speed,

Still daily to grow wiser:
And may you better reck the rede,
Than ever did th' adviser.


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A Member of the modern great
A Passid Sawney with his budget,
The Peer was in a car of state, ..

The tinker forc'd to trudge it..
But Sawney shall receive the praise :

His Lordship would parade for;
One's debtor for his dapple greys, .
And t'other's shoes are paid for.

it' ion ; : CUNNINGHAM."

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