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All tribes befide of Indian name,

That gloffy fhine or vivid flame,
Where rifes, and where fets the day,
Whate'er they boast of rich and gay,
Contribute to the gorgeous plan,
Proud to advance it all they can.
This plumage neither dashing show'r
Nor blafts that shake the dripping bow'r
Shall drench again or discompofe,
But fcreen'd from ev'ry ftorm that blows,
It boasts a splendour ever new,
Safe with protecting Montague.
To the fame patronefs resort,
Secure of favour at her court,

Strong Genius, from whofe forge of thought
Forms rife, to quick perfection wrought,
Which, though new-born, with vigour move,
Like Pallas fpringing arm'd from Jove-
Imagination scatt'ring round
Wild rofes over furrow'd ground,
Which Labour of his frown beguile,
And teach Philosophy a smile-
Wit flashing on Religion's fide,
Whofe fires to facred Truth applied,
The gem, though luminous before,
Obtrude on human notice more,

Like fun-beams on the golden height
Of fome tall temple playing bright-
Well-tutor❜d Learning, from his books
Difmifs'd with grave, not haughty, looks,

Their order on his fhelves exact

Not more harmonious or compact
Than that to which he keeps confin'd
The various treasures of his mind-
All these to Montague's repair,

Ambitious of a fhelter there.

There Genius, Learning, Fancy, Wit,
Their ruffled plumage calm refit,
(For ftormy troubles loudest roar
Around their flight who highest foar)
And in her eye, and by her aid,
Shine fafe without a fear to fade.

She thus maintains divided fway,
With yon bright Regent of the day;
The Plume and Poet both we know
Their luftre to his influence owe &
And the the works of Phœbus aiding,
Both Poet faves and Plume from fading.

SONNET

ADDRESSED TO

HENRY COWPER, Esq.

On his emphatical and interesting Delivery of the Defence of Warren Haftings, Efq. in the House of Lords.

COWPER, whofe filver voice, task'd sometimes hard, Legends prolix delivers in the ears

(Attentive when thou read'ft) of England's peers,

Let verfe at length yield thee thy just reward.
Thou waft not heard with drowsy difregard,
Expending late on all that length of plea
Thy gen'rous pow'rs, but filence honour'd thee
Mute as e'er gaz'd on orator or bard.

Thou art not voice alone, but haft befide

Both heart and head; and could'st with music sweet

Of attic phrase and senatorial tone,

Like thy renown'd forefathers, far and wide

Thy fame diffuse, prais'd not for utt'rance meet

Of others' fpeech, but magic of thy own.

THE

MORNING DREAM,

'Twas in the glad season of spring,
Afleep at the dawn of the day,

I dream'd what I cannot but fing,
So pleasant it seem'd as I lay.
I dream'd that on ocean afloat,

Far hence to the westward I fail'd,
While the billows high-lifted the boat,
And the fresh-blowing breeze never fail'd.

In the fteerage a woman I saw,

Such at leaft was the form that she wore, Whose beauty imprefs'd me with awe, Ne'er taught me by woman before.

She fat, and a 'fhield at her fide

Shed light like a fun on the waves,

And smiling divinely, she cry'd-
"I go to make Freemen of Slaves."-

Then raifing her voice to a strain
The sweetest that ear ever heard,
She fung of the flave's broken chain
Wherever her glory appear'd.
Some clouds which had over us hung
Fled, chas'd by her melody clear,
And methought while she liberty fung,
'Twas liberty only to hear.

Thus fwiftly dividing the flood,

To a flave-cultur'd ifland we came,
Where a demon, her enemy, ftood-
Oppreffion his terrible name.
In his hand, as the fign of his fway,
A fcourge hung with lashes he bore,
And ftood looking out for his prey
From Africa's forrowful fhore.

But foon as approaching the land

That goddess-like woman he view'd, The fcourge he let fall from his hand, With blood of his subjects imbrued. I faw him both ficken and die,

And the moment the monfter expir'd Heard fhouts that afcended the sky

From thousands with rapture infpir'd.

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