1798. j 
1. 
But, lo! the mighty power * appears 
Who guides the largeft of the {pheres 
That round Apollo run— 
See! how along fublimely roll’d 
By brafs-hoof’d fteeds with manes of gold, 
He hails the fov’reign Sun. 
“1. 
To clofe the band, Time’s hoary fire T, 
Who rides on guards of mental fire], 
His winged chariot cites 5 
Slow thro’ the fhining traéts of Heav’n, 
By dragons drawn, the God is driv’n 
From fteep Olympian heights. 
XII. 
Each Dryad of the fhady wood, 
Each Sifter of the filver flood, 
With thefe well-pleas’d advance 3 
Around creation’s feven-ray’d } king, 
In ftrains that ravifh Tart’rus’ fing, , 
In myftic meafures dance. 
XIII. 
Glad earth perceives, and kindly pours 
Unbidden herbs, fpontaneous flow’rs, 
And forefts tow’ring rife 5 
Old Ocean ftills his raging deeps, 
And Darknefs flies, and Difcord fleeps, 
And laugh th’ exulting Skies. 
XIV. 
Let Nature’s tribes, with gen’ral voice, 
Unceafing in the God rejoice, 
Who pours the blaze of day; 
- Rocks, hills, and vales, one chorus raife, 
Men, beats, and birds, refound his praife, 
And blefé his vivid ray. 
T. TAYLOR. 
Maner-Place, Walworth. 
ee 
SONNET, 
On Two beautiful CHILDREN at Play. 
WEET innocents! who the unheeded hour 
Of infancy beguile with thoughtlefs play, 
Ne’er may the clouds of black misfortune 
low’r 
Onthe fair profpeé of your life’s bright day! 
As to the beam of morn the blufhing rofe 
Spreads her moift leaves, your tender mind 
z unveil 
Their budding charms, nor heed the train of 
woes, 
Whofe lurking thorns befet this tearful vale, 
Now fpirits gay, and innocent defires, 
Light in your little breafts their harmlefs fires : 
The fad reverfe, ah! never may ye prove! 
Never may wounded fenfibility 
Heave your foft bofoms with one deep-drawn 
figh, tien 
For friendfhip broken, or for hopelefs love! 
MS: 

* Jupiter. + Saturn. 
{ This is aferted of Saturn in the Chaldaic 
Theology.—-See my ** Verjion of the Chaldaic 
Oracles. 
MontTHLy Mac, No, XXxvu. 
Original Poetry. 
SONNET, 
To an Ass, feen grazing at Night in a Country 
Church-yard. 
OR viGtim of oppreffion! and is this, 
This all the choice thy tyrant mafter leaves 
thee * 
This all thy home, poor outcaft! Com’f thou 
here, 
Weary with labour and the day’s hard tafk, 
As to thy refting-place? In footh, poor Afs! 
Well haftthou chofen it: the reft thou feck’ 
None here fhall interrupt—nong here infult 
The paflive tamenefs of thy nature—tis 
Infirmity’s hereditary home. 
Welcome, partake the tranquil boon it offers; 
Enjoy its fleth-fed verdure, thou poor beaft! 
And, as thou feafteft at Death’s table, think 
(Tis Mis’ry’s higheft privilege, the thought !} 
Thou feafteft at the table of a friend. 
London, O&. 3d. 
nee 
ELEGY. 
WRITTEN IN FLEET-STREET- 
ST. Dunftan’s bells proclaim departed day, 
The weary hacks flow drag the axle-tree 5 
The ’prentice homeward runs his hafty way, 
And leaves the town to dulnefs and to me. 
LNG Be 
Now fades the glimmering lamp upon the 
fiehty) 
_ And all the air a folemn ftillnefs holds 5 
Save where the watchman bawls—«* A cloudy 
night,” 
And tipfy rev’ller the fhut tavern fcolds + 
Save that yon victim of aruffian’s pow’r, 
Does loudly to the ftreet-patrole complain 
Of fuch as, lurking at this filent hour, 
Moles the king of midnight’s ancient reign. 
Within thofe gates that iron ftrong has made, 
Where rooms o’er rooms arife in many a 
heap, <i: 
Each in his chamber on a pillow laid, 
The law-learn’d benchers of the Temple 
fleep. 
The breezy call of incenfe-breathing morn, 
The fwallow twitt’ring from the ftraw- 
built fhed, 
The fheriff’s trunzpet, or the poft-man’s horn, 
No more fhall rouze therm from their 
feather-bed. 
In them no more the Mufe’s fire fhall burn, 
Or metaphyfics be their ev’ning care 3 
No fchool-boy’s claffic triumphs fhall return, 
Or dulnefs pine the envied praife to fhare. 
Oft did the grammar to their patience yield, 
The Latin oft and ftubborn Greek they 
{poke : 
How jocund hied they to the cricket-field! 
How flew the ball before their fturdy ftrake 
Let not a WaxkEFrerpd mock their plodding 
toil, 
Their text corrupt, and pedagogue gbfcure 5 
Nor Porson hear, with a difdainful fmile, 
What fripes a flow-pac’d tyro muft endure. 
O The 

