Known, tho' unnam'd , since, shunning vulgar praise ,
Thy muse wou'd shine , and, yet, conceal her rays,
Think thyself hid ; and hope, in vain, to be
Unseen , like light , that shews us all, we see .

But, while thy readers are deny'd thy name ,
They feel , thy genius , and attest thy flame .
They pity, too, in death , thy noteless friend ,
Poor by the generous aid , thy wealth wou'd lend,
Prefac'd by thee , his feeble lights expire ,
Even, in producing , thou obscur'st , his fire.

I.

Spirits of distress, of ev'ry occupation,
Persuasion, mode, complexion, temper, climate, in clination,
Come here! come here!

Spirit of a friar, obliged to go to mass,
Spirit of a sailor who leaves his pretty lass,
Spirit of a drunkard depriv'd of his glass,
Appear! appear!

II.

Spirit of a virgin, old and antiquated,
Who forty long winters has sigh'd out unmated,

A roman and a Greek our praise divide,
Nor can we yet who best deserv'd decide.
Behold two mightier conquerors appear,
Some for your wit, some for your eyes, declare:
Debates arise which captivates us most,
And none can tell the charm by which he's lost.
The bow and quiver does Diana bear,
Cybele the lions, Pallas has the spear:
Poets such emblems to their gods assign,
Hearts bleeding by the dart and pen be thine.

" Where is my heart's dearest,
Where can he be? "
" In his tall ship, Marguerite.
Sailing on the sea;
Sailing with a gallant crew,
Winds a-blowing free " —
" Ah! he vowed he soon would come
Home to wed with me! "

" Should he never, Marguerite,
Come back to thee,
Thou canst find another love —
I thy love will be;
Then far away to Indian isles
Let us quickly flee,
Pine no more for truant hearts
Sailing on the sea. "

Flashed her eye in anger,
Proudly turned she
From the muffled cavalier

I.

That all the world is up in arms,
And talks of nought but Celia's charms,
That crowds of lovers, near and far,
Come all to see this blazing star,
Is true — who has not heard on't.

But that she all at distance keeps,
And that her virtue never sleeps —
I don't believe a word on't.

II.

That for one lover had she ten,
In short, did she from all the men
Her homage due each day receive,
She has good sense, and, I believe,
Would never grow absurd on't:

But for soft dalliance she'd refuse

  Pale peak, afar
Gilds thy white pinacle, a single star,
While sharply on the deep blue sky thy snows
In death-like calm repose.

 The nightingale
Through “Mira Flores” bowers repeats her tale,
And every rose its perfumed censer swings
 With vesper offerings.

 But not for thee,
Diademed king, this love-born minstrelsy,
Nor yet the tropic gales that gently blow
 Through these blest vales below.

 Around thy form
Hover the mid-air fiends, the lightning warm,
Thunder, and by the driving hurricane,

Oe'r nature's laws, God cast the veil of night ,
Out-blaz'd a N EWTON'S soul —and all was light .

A sailor's love is void of art,
Plain sailing to his port, the heart,
He knows no jealous folly:

'Twere hard enough at sea to war
With boisterous elements that jar—
All's peace with lovely Polly.

II.

Enough that, far from sight of shore,
Clouds frown, and angry billows roar,
Still is he brisk and jolly:

And while carousing with his mates,
Her health he drinks—anticipates
The smiles of lovely Polly.

III.

Go, Muse nor vainly mourn Britannia stray'd,
In faction , roughning, or dissolv'd, in trade ;
Tasteless of letters ; yet, to Fame , inclin'd,
Busily viewless , and profoundly blind :
Go, to thy Country 's Hope, invoke his care;
Watch, if he smiles, and, then, suspend despair;
Bless his protective hand, that calls out Arts ,
And hail his Empire , o'er a people's hearts .

What argufies pride and ambition?
Soon or late death will take us in tow;
Each bullet has got its commission,
And when our time's come we must go.

Then drink and sing — hang pain and sorrow,
The halter was made for the neck;
He that's now live and lusty — to-morrow
Perhaps may be shelch'd on the deck.

II.

There was little Tom Linstock of Dover
Got kill'd, and left Polly in pain,
Poll cry'd, but her grief was soon over,