Why Drums , and Trumpets to excite ,
Dread Captain , when you go to fight ,
While you , and all your Soldiers swear,
Ye never knew, what 'tis, to fear .

'Tis Autumn — and the winds are high
And storm-clouds scud across the sky;
The yellow groves on Dee's dark side
Grow paler each approaching tide,
As though they feared the rising waves
Would sweep them to untimely graves.

No flowers are now with dew-lit eye
To lure the light breeze loitering by;
No roses shed their rich perfume
From hearts just hid in sweets and gloom;
But barren stem and withered leaf
Are all that's left for love and grief.

Behind yon hills which fence the west
The sun sets on the sea's wild breast;

Sweet Pope! how would thy ardent bosom glow,
Did'st thou remain to sing a Howard's praise!
How tender would thy plaintive numbers flow!
The glorious theme would elevate thy lays.

But Lettsom lives to see his statue rise,
Who sympathizing feels a Howard's flame,
And deems humanity the darling prize,
Which must to ages consecrate their fame.
Pathetic Lettsom! many a lisping babe
Shall bless the man who kindly gave it life;
Who snatch'd its mother from a wat'ry grave,
And to a husband gave a new-born wife.

TRANSLATED From the L ATIN of D R. HALLEY.

Behold the regions of the heav'ns survey'd!
And this fair system in the ballance weigh'd;
Behold the law which (when in ruin hurl'd
God out of Chaos call'd the beauteous world)
Th' almighty fix'd, when all things good he saw!
Behold the chaste, inviolable law!
 Before us now new scenes unfolded lie,
And heav'n appears expanded to the eye;
Th' illumin'd mind now sees distinctly clear
What power impels each planetary sphere.
Thron'd in the centre glows the king of day,

From the SAME.

When cloudless skies, or Spring's soft season fair
Calls forth the citizens to take the air;
The landlord kindly asks his guests to dine
On well-corn'd beef, or pork's high-relish'd chine:
The season'd fraud succeeds, and soon or late
A shoal of gudgeons gobble up the bait.
The savoury viands make them thirst the more,
Creating drought, and swelling out the score.
My landlord, faith! is not so kind, I think;
He gives his victuals, but he sells his drink.

Your little eyes, with which, fair maid,
Strict watch on me you're keeping,
Were never meant to look, I'm 'fraid
They're only fit for peeping.

Your little eyes, with which, fair maid,
Strict watch on me you're keeping,
Were never meant to look, I'm 'fraid
They're only fit for peeping.

To Mr. Scutbern's last Play

CALLED MONEY THE MISTRESS .

There was a time when, in his younger years,
Our author's scenes commanded smiles or tears;
And tho' beneath the weight of days he bends,
Yet like the sun he shines as he descends:
Then with applause, in honour to his age,
Dismiss your vet'ran soldier of the stage;
Crown his last exit with distinguish'd praise,
And kindly hide his baldness with the bays.

Of all the spectacles to mend the sight,
Devis'd by art for viewing objects right,
Those are most useful, which the prudent place
High on the handle of the human face.
Some on the temples fix 'em, I suppose,
Lest they should seem to snaffle thro' the nose:
Some in one hand the single convex hold,
But these are prigs asham'd of being old.
None are in news or politics so wise,
As he whose nose is saddled with his eyes;
And if the taper tube regale his snout,
There's nought so secret but he'll smell it out.

Detested Plague of human Race,
Who Nature's fairest Works deface,
And your malicious Rage disclose
On Strephon 's Shins , or PhÅ?be 's Nose!
To visit my inconstant Fair ,
In pity to her Youth forbear;
Tho' thrice five Years she cannot count,
To five Times three her Lovers mount.

How chang'd my Phillis? can it be,
You love so well, and only me?
The pleasing Wonder I'll believe:
But shou'd you change your Mind again,
And doat on any other Swain ,
In Pity, Phillis , thus deceive .