, foe to Care,
And lo! Distraction hovers there.

Ah, hapless wretch! condemn'd to know,
The sad varieties of woe;
Where'er thy footsteps turn, to meet,
An earthquake yawning at thy feet,
While o'er thy head pale meteors glare,
And boding tempests fill the air,
In throbbing anguish doom'd to roam,
Yet never find a peaceful home.
Haste! to the shrine of Mercy hie,
There lift the penitential eye,
With breaking heart thy sins deplore,
And wound Integrity no more!
Repentance then thy soul shall save,
And snatch thee, ransom'd, from the grave.

JULY 1796.

* * * * *

_The death of Selred, last King of the East-Saxons, reduced that part
of the Heptarchy to dependance on Mercia. The rest is imaginary_.

* * * * *

CEN'LIN, PRINCE OF MERCIA.

When Britain many chiefs obey'd,
And seven Saxon princes sway'd,
The Mercian monarch, fam'd afar,
In peace respected, fear'd in war,
Favour'd by heav'n above the rest,
In his brave son was fully blest;
For none like Cen'lin did arise,
So virtuous, elegant, and wise.

Of partial Mercian eyes the joy,
His parents idoliz'd the boy;
Saw with just pride each op'ning grace,
His charms of mind, of form, and face.
And as he oft, with modest air,
His thoughts and feelings did declare,
His father would delighted hear,
Would fondly drop the grateful tear;
And proudly cast his eyes around,
But not an equal could be found.
Warm from each lip applauses broke,
And every tongue his praises spoke;
The list'ning courtiers spread his fame,
And blessings follow'd Cen'lins name.

Now twenty summer's suns had flown,
And Mercia's hopes were fully blown;
When ah! conceal'd in coarse disguise,
To Selred's[12] court their darling flies.
Selred, his father's scorn and hate,
Became the ruler of his fate.
There flatter'd, lov'd, the youth remain'd,
Till Cenulph's threats his heir regain'd.
But ah! no more the son of mirth,
His pensive eye now sought the earth;
No more within the dance to move,
Or list to sages, did he love;
But from surrounding friends would fly,
To pour in solitude the sigh.
And soon again the youth withdrew,
Again to th' Eastern-Saxons flew.
His father heard, opprest with woe,
His aged heart forgot to glow;
He learnt his foes an army led,
With youthful Cen'lin at their head,
He call'd his warriors forth to meet,
And stretch the rebel at hit feet:
Tears from his eyes in anguish broke,
As thu