Inscribed To The Marchioness Of Lansdowne

Go to assemblies of the rich and gay, The blazing hall of grandeur, and the throng Of cities, and there listen to the song Of festive harmony; then pause, and say, Where is she found, who in her sphere might shine, Attracting all? Where is she found, whose place And dignity the proudest court might grace? Go, where the desolate and dying pine On their cold bed; open the cottage door; Ask of that aged pair, who feebly bend O'er their small evening fire, who is their friend; Ask of these children of the village poor; For this, at the great judgment, thou shalt find Heaven's mercy, Lady, merciful and kind.

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HYMN FOR MUSIC,

AFTER THE BATTLE OF WATERLOO.

Perish! Almighty Justice cried, And struck the avenging blow, And Europe shouts from side to side, The tyrant is laid low! Said not his heart, More blood shall stream Around my sovereign throne? He wakes from dire ambition's dream, Pale, trembling, and alone.

ARIA WITH CHORUS.

Triumph! the rescued nations cry, Triumph! ten thousand hearts reply.

Sad mother, weep no more thy children slain; The trumpets and the battle clangours cease: Uplift to heaven the loud, the grateful strain, And hail the dawn of Freedom and of Peace.

CHORUS.

Triumph! the rescued nations cry, Triumph! ten thousand hearts reply.

ARIA.

For joy returned, for peace restored, Lord of all worlds, to thee we raise, While Slaughter drops his weary sword, To thee the hymn of gratitude and praise.

CHORUS.

Triumph! the rescued nations cry, Triumph! ten thousand hearts reply.

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INSCRIPTIONS IN THE GARDENS OF BREMHILL RECTORY.

ON A TREE COMMANDING A VIEW OF THE WHOLE EXTENT OF BOWOOD.

When in thy sight another's vast domain Spreads its long line of woods, dost thou complain? Nay, rather thank the God that placed thy state Above the lowly, but beneath the great! And still His name with gratitude revere, Who blessed the Sabbath of thy leisure here.

ON A RURAL SEAT.

Rest, stranger, in this decorated scene, That hangs its beds of flowers, its slopes so green; So from the walks of life the weeds remove, But fix thy better hopes on scenes above.

ON THE FRONT OF A HERMITAGE, NEAR A DIAL.

To mark life's few and fleeting hours I placed the dial 'midst the flowers, Which one by one came forth and died, Still withering by its ancient side. Mortals, let the sight impart Its pensive moral to thy heart!

QUIETI ET MUSIS.

Be thine Retirement's peaceful joys, And a life that makes no noise; Save when Fancy, musing long, Wakes her desultory song; Sounding to the vacant ear, Like the rill that murmurs near.