Superior in renown,
And richer in celestial eyes,
Than he who wears a crown;

Hence, in the bosom cold of age,
It kindled a strange aim
To shine in song; and bid me boast
The grandeur of my theme:

But oh! how far presumption falls
Its lofty theme below!
Our thoughts in life's December freeze,
And numbers cease to flow.

First! greatest! best! grant what I wrote
For others, ne'er may rise
To brand the writer! thou alone
Canst make our wisdom wise;

And how unwise! how deep in guilt!
How infamous the fault!
"A teacher thron'd in pomp of words,
Indeed, beneath the taught!"

Means most infallible to make
The world an infidel;
And, with instructions most divine,
To pave a path to hell;

O! for a clean and ardent heart,
O! for a soul on fire,
Thy praise, begun on earth, to sound
Where angels string the lyre;

How cold is man! to him how hard
(Hard, what most easy seems)
"To set a just esteem on that,
Which yet he--most esteems!"

What shall we say, when boundless bliss
Is offer'd to mankind,
And to that offer when a race
Of rationals is blind?

Of human nature ne'er too high
Are our ideas wrought;
Of human merit ne'er too low
Depress'd the daring thought.

ON THE LATE QUEEN'S DEATH, AND HIS MAJESTY'S ACCESSION TO THE THRONE

Inscribed to Joseph Addison, Esq. Secretary to Their Excellencies the
Lords Justices.

Gaudia curis.

--HOR.

Sir, I have long, and with impatience, sought
To ease the fulness of my grateful thought,
My fame at once, and duty to pursue,
And please the public, by respect to you.
Though you, long since beyond Britannia known,
Have spread your country's glory with your own;
To me you never did more lovely shine,
Than when so late the kindled wrath divine
Quench'd our ambition, in great Anna's fate,
And darken'd all the pomp of human state.
Though you are rich in fame, and fame decay,
Though rais'd in life, and greatness fade away,
Your lustre brightens: virtue cuts the gloom
With purer rays, and sparkles near a tomb.
Know, sir, the great esteem and honour due,
I chose that moment to profess to you,
When sadness reign'd, when fortune, so severe,
Had warm'd our bosoms to be most sincere.
And when