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ON THE

DEATH OF

MR. HOWARD,

THE PHILANTHROPIST.

BORN to relieve the mis'ries of mankind,

Infenfible of toil, to danger blind;

Thro' diftant realms, while How'rd with zeal pursues, And executes his philanthropick views;

Boldly defcends, when human fufferings call,

Where damps annoy or poisonous reptiles crawl; His friends (nor less the friends of th' human race) Thus check'd their colleague's rashness in the chace: "Why eager thus unequal war to wage, "Where peftilence and death refistless rage? "Each captive wretch, and object of distress, "Nay, duty pleads thy ardour to repress.

Thy life, more precious than of lords or kings, "Life, health, and happiness, to thousands brings. "Be not too bold, attend discretion's call;

"Nor risk for one the life that's due to all.

Stranger to fear, all danger he defied:
With temperance arm'd, and Providence his guide.
But angels, charm'd fuch godlike acts to fee,
Forgot awhile their guardian cares for thee.
Contagion then, whose powers had been suspended,
Refum'd its force, and, ah! thy work was ended:
Anxious for all, but for himself alone;

To save a stranger's* life, he loft his own.
Oh! had he learnt the caution of a coward,
The world had still been happy in their Howard.

* A young lady in a peftilential fever.

AN HERO IN HUMBLE LIFE.

A TRIBUTE TO

THE MEMORY OF

MR. THOMAS UNDERWOOD,

Who loft his Life to fave a Fellow-fervant from the Fire, at Cumberwell-house, Wilts, Dec. 8, 1790.

OF Heroes old, for flaughter'd foes renown'd;
Of kings, for vanquish'd realms with laurels crown'd;
Or patriots, in their country's cause who fell,
Let Grecian bards, or Roman annals tell.
To gain a victory Codrus fought his death,
And Curtius in the gulph refign'd his breath:
Illustrious be their acts, and just their fame,
They gain'd-'twas what they fought—a deathless name.

Behold! a youth, untutor'd in the laws

Of Glory's school, nor led by vain applause;

Yet, taught by mere humanity, exceeds
In folid glory all their boasted deeds;
Efcap'd from death, undaunted he returns,
While yet the fire in all its fury burns;
With fuppliant cries, for lo! an helpless maid
Amidft the burning mansion fues for aid :
Boldly he rush'd, and fav'd her in his arms-
But ah! another wretch his fears alarms.
In flames involv'd the trembling victim stands,
To heaven in wild defpair fhe lifts her hands:
By pure compaffion, not with glory fir'd,
Again he rush'd-but in th' attempt expir'd.
Ye angels! o'er the deed who wond'ring stood,
Receive his spirit to your blest abode:
Ye British dames, protect the pregnant* wife,
For in your cause the husband loft his life.

* Big with her fecond child.

ON THE

KING'S RECOVERY.

Ioth MARCH, 1789.

IF o'er the fun, at early day,
While mortals hail his cheering ray,
And nature smiles in vernal bloom,
Some cloud extends its tranfient gloom;
Through all the grove dull filence reigns,
And mirth and joy forfake the plains.

But foon difpers'd the vapours fly,
Chas'd by the regent of the sky;
The turbid air his beams refine,
And with their wonted luftre shine.

Thus late BRITANNIA's happy isle Saw peace reftor'd, and all things fmile: Beneath her much-lov'd monarch's reign, Mirth revell'd o'er the wide domain: Even rival factions only strove To exprefs their gratitude and love.

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