1806.] 
power with a dangerous precedent, that 
may one day trench on the liberties of his 
country. ; 
Toconclude, gifted with all the powers 
of eloquence, his talents were not practi- 
cal; evincing great perfonal integrity, he 
was fupport«d by many who were princi- 
pled, and by nearly all who were corrupt. 
His abilities were of a fuperior caft, and 
while he {poke he appeared fitted to rule ; 
but when he tried to act, the deception was 
evident. 
Eager after power, by a (eries of for- 
tunate occurrences he continued to re- 
main in office during twenty years, and 
while, in imitation of Noy and of Straf- 
ford, he turned his back on the tenets of 
his youth, like Cromwell, he died at a 
period when his fituation appeared to be 
iriemediable. 
Well verfed in all the arts of finance, 
Original Poetry. 125 
yet uoder his adminifration the national 
debt was raifed to a gigantic magnitude, 
and paper fubftituted in the place of golds 
boalting of his love of liberty, he found 
the prels free, and the conftitution entire 3 
he has delivered over the one in fetters, 
and placed the other in jeopardy. 
Magnanimous himfelf in the midi of 
danger, he has left his fovereig for a 
while bereaved, if not ftript for ever, of 
his continental dominionsy and the Con. 
tinent itfelf crumbling beneath the colof- 
fal power of an infatiable enemy. With 
hisdebts paid, his remains interred, and 
his monument erected at the public ex- 
pence, it ftill remains for hiftory finally 
to decide on the charaéter of a man who, 
for the we.fare of his country, according 
to fome, ought never to have lived, while 
according to others he ought never to 
have died. 
cere een Eee ees 
STR TD 
ORIGINAL POETRY. 
EE 
TO MR. JAMES MONTGOMERY, 
ON HIS POEMS, LATELY PUBLISHED. 
S there a © winter in thy foul” 
That Genius cannot fhine away ? 
Does dark Defpair that heart controul 
Which pants for Glory’s radiant day ? 
Have paft affli€tions left the trace 
Of forrow grav’d in lines fo deep 
That Memory, hopelefs to efface 
The piteous forms, looks on to weep ? 
Then think, that o’er thy glowing page, 
Where Fancy’s hues with feeling blend, 
Enthufiaft Youth and temperate Age 
In fympathetic rapture bend. 
Think, that themufic of thy ftrains, 
Attun’d to Freedom’s manly lyre, 
Runs kindling thro’ the Patriot’s veins, 
And lights his gliftening eyes with fire. 
Think, on fome day of wild alarm, 
When Albion’s cliffs defcry the foe, 
Thy voice may nerve the forceful arm 
That lays the fierce invader low. 
And fee, thy Country, freed at length 
From jealous fears that haunt the flave, 
And taught to call forth a//her ftrength, 
The hands and hearts of a// the brave, 
No more the freeborn fpirit binds ; 
But, inly touch’d, delights to fee 
Her caufe the caufe of nobleft minds, 
Her friends the friends of Liberty ! 
1 PSE 
=e 
WRITTEN IN 1790, DURING AN AUTUMN 
SPENT IN TOWN. 
[J NPASTORAL fate ! condemn’d to bear 
~ Town, and its noife, its duft, its carey 
Jn this beft feafon of the year, 
When Autumn holds her {way ? 
Sweet Autumn ! friendly to the Mufey 
In vain doft thou thy tints diffufe, 
Thine evening-fun—no rural views 
To court its parting ray. ~ 
Nought but the manfions of the great, 
Windows of gioom and walls of ftate, 
The proud inhofpitab!e gate 
Whofe hinges flowly move ; 
(Stow as when wretches urge their plea, 
And Av’rice grafps its fcanty fee) 
_ Autumn, are fcenes like thefe for thee? 
Thee whom the Virtues love ! 
Oft? T recall thy focial feaft, 
No ruffet.garb excludes the gueft, / 
And Plenty in her golden vedt 
Smiles on the fun-burnt train. 
“Moafic perchance may tune the reed, 
And Grace fome loofe-robed dainfel lead 
Round the tall oak or verdant meady 
Though bred on lowlieft plain. 
How changed the group! a _ wrangling 
throng 
Joftle with many a curfe along, 
Squabbhivg for places loud and firong 
{nfultry ftreets at noon, 
To fee fome mortal, plump and wife, 
Cram ina quart his portly uze, 
Walk @erthe Thames, or tempt the fkies 
In the new-found balloon, 
Far off the tufted hill, and far 
The glimpfe of village fteeple there, 
Chiming its fingle bell for prayer 5 
Far off the fimple fcene 
Dear to the fimple heart—the glade 
That meeting boughs o’erfpread with fhade, 
And the low bench for converfe made 
With viita down the green. 
S$. W. 
SONNET 
