O Solitude! where are the charms

That sages have seen in thy face?

Verses supposed to be written by Alexander Selkirk.

But the sound of the church-going bell
These valleys and rocks never heard,
Ne'er sigh'd at the sound of a knell,

Or smiled when a sabbath appeared. Ibid.

How fleet is a glance of the mind!
Compared with the speed of its flight,
The tempest itself lags behind,

And the swift-winged arrows of light. Ibid.

The path of sorrow, and that path alone, Leads to the land where sorrow is unknown. To an Afflicted Protestant Lady.

'Tis Providence alone secures

In every change both mine and yours.

A Fable. (Moral.)

The man that hails you Tom or Jack,
And proves, by thumping on your back,1
His sense of your great merit,2

Is such a friend, that one had need

Be

very much his friend indeed

To pardon, or to bear it. On Friendship.

Beware of desperate steps. The darkest day,
Live till to-morrow, will have passed away.
The Needless Alarm. (Moral.)

1 And friend received with thumps upon the back. Young, Universal Passion. "How he esteems your merit."

2 Var.

He sees that this great roundabout,
The world, with all its motley rout,
Church, army, physic, law,

Its customs and its businesses,
Is no concern at all of his,

And says what says he?

Caw.

The Jackdaw.

For 't is a truth well known to most,
That whatsoever thing is lost,
We seek it, ere it come to light,

In every cranny but the right.

The Retired Cat.

He that holds fast the golden mean,
And lives contentedly between

The little and the great,

Feels not the wants that pinch the poor,

Nor plagues that haunt the rich man's door. Translation of Horace. Book ii. Ode x.

But strive still to be a man before your mother.1 Motto of No. iii. Connoisseur.

WILLIAM MASON. 1725–1797.

The fattest hog in Epicurus' sty." Heroic Epistle.

1 Thou wilt scarce be a man before thy mother. Beaumont and Fletcher, Love's Cure, Act ii. Sc. 2. ? Me pinguem et nitidum bene curata cute vises, .. Epicuri de grege porcum.

Horace, Epist., Lib. 1. iv. 15, 16.

JAMES BEATTIE. 1735-1803.

Ah! who can tell how hard it is to climb

The steep where Fame's proud temple shines

afar?

The Minstrel. Book i. St. 1.

Zealous, yet modest; innocent, tho' free;
Patient of toil; serene amidst alarms;
Inflexible in faith; invincible in arms.

Ibid. St. 2.

Old age comes on apace to ravage all the clime. St. 25.

Ibid.

Mine be the breezy hill that skirts the down;
Where a green grassy turf is all I crave,
With here and there a violet bestrewn,

Fast by a brook or fountain's murmuring wave;
And many an evening sun shine sweetly on my
grave!
Ibid. Book ii. St. 17.

At the close of the day, when the hamlet is still,
And mortals the sweets of forgetfulness prove,
When naught but the torrent is heard on the hill,
And naught but the nightingale's song in the
grove.

The Hermit.

He thought as a sage, though he felt as a man.

Ibid.

But when shall spring visit the mouldering urn? O, when shall it dawn on the night of the grave?

Beattie. - Darwin.—Mickle.

403

By the glare of false science betray'd, That leads to bewilder, and dazzles to blind. The Hermit.

And beauty immortal awakes from the tomb. Ibid.

ERASMUS DARWIN. 1731 - 1802.

Soon shall thy arm, unconquered steam! afar
Drag the slow barge, or drive the rapid car;
Or on wide waving wings expanded bear
The flying-chariot through the field of air.

The Botanic Garden. Parti. Ch. 1. Line 289. No radiant pearl, which crested Fortune wears, No gem, that twinkling hangs from Beauty's ears, Not the bright stars, which Night's blue arch

adorn,

Nor rising suns that gild the vernal morn, Shine with such lustre as the tear that flows Down Virtue's manly cheek for others' woes. Ibid. Part ii. The Loves of the Plants. Canto iii. Line 459.

The dews of summer nights did fall,
The moon, sweet regent of the sky,1
Silvered the walls of Cumnor Hall

And many an oak that grew thereby.
Cumnor Hall.

And hail their queen, fair regent of the night. Darwin, The Botanic Garden, Pt. 1, Canto ii. Line 90.

404 Mickle. - Adams.-Dickinson.

For there's nae luck about the house,
There's nae luck at a';

There's little pleasure in the house
When our gudeman 's awa'.

The Mariner's Wife.

His very foot has music in 't

As he comes up the stairs.

Ibid.

JOHN ADAMS.

1735-1826.

The second day of July, 1776, will be the most memorable epocha in the history of America. I am apt to believe that it will be celebrated by succeeding generations as the great anniversary Festival. It ought to be commemorated, as the day of deliverance, by solemn acts of devotion to God Almighty. It ought to be solemnized with pomp and parade, with shows, games, sports, guns, bells, bonfires, and illuminations, from one end of this continent to the other, from this time forward for evermore.

Letter to Mrs. Adams, July 3, 1776.

JOHN DICKINSON.

1732-1808.

Then join in hand, brave Americans all;
By uniting we stand, by dividing we fall.

The Liberty Song. (1768.)

1 The Mariner's Wife is now given "by common consent," says Sarah Tytler, to Jean Adam, 1710-1765.