Io6 pastry. Ju/y 25, 



When I appear a candidate for fame, 



Grant me ! the Acker of tliy name. 



Dear to thy friends, and to the muses dear. 

 Thy poet greets thee on the new born year. 

 If in th' evtnt, 'tis happiest for thee, 

 I May heaven prolong a life so d«ar to me ! 



And if to future times my rhymes descend, 



Let them record that was my friend j 



Thy sweet retreat I hope to see e're long, 

 Meanwhile accept the tribute of a song. 



Hail Ninety-two ! while yet unstain'd with blame. 

 Erect new trophies to Br'itenn'm^s fame ! 

 But check the grofs corruption of the times. 

 Great is her glory, greater are her crimes ! 

 Now let the wise, the good, the sons of light. 

 To stem the torrent, all their pow'rs unite j 

 Now let religious feuds, and party zeal, 

 Yield to the int'rest of the public weal. 

 My feeble, best endeavours, I'll exert. 

 Nor, while I live, the glorious cause desert. 

 May he, whose grace can prosper the event. 

 Accept the means and blefs the instrument ! 

 Oat- iinner from the error of his w.iys 

 To save, the hboursof a life repays. 



What will this naughty world come to at last ? 

 Each rising age more vicious than the past; 

 Refinfd'm vite, in all the arts of fraud ; 

 Lefs by divine than human justice aw'd ! 

 We ftiun the villany of ruder times, 

 Though for more secret more malignant crimes. 

 Ui.der the mask offriendihip, void of Ihame, 

 We now betray and wound our neighbours fame. 

 Candour, benevolence, truth, justice, iaiij 

 Self-love, deceit, iniquity, prevail. 

 Dire luxury, with all her train of ills. 

 The heart inflames, with pride aud pafsion fills. 

 Taught by our sires contempt for all above, 

 Like hopeful sons we on their crimes improve. 

 Th' exploded doctrines of the sacred pjge. 

 The scorn and jest of this licentious age, 

 Vice like its author, boldly walks abroad. 

 We laugh at virtue and insult our God. 

 We own (such is our character at best) 

 No Cod but gold, no tie but interest. 

 By mercenary motives all are led ; 

 Faitk from the earth has with religion fled. 

 In (hort no action is too mean, too base, 

 For this perfidious execrable race. 

 How vainly boasts the self-enlighten'd sage, 

 Th' unrivall'd wisdom of this impious age ! 

 Such, so corrupt the manners of the times, 

 The world must sink beneath the burthen of her crimes. 

 St ^ndrc-jjsjan.i. ij^z. Thsologus. 



