But Nature tires! your toils are vain—
Could you on stronger pinions rise
Than eagles have—for days to come
All you could see are seas and skies.
Again she comes, again she lights,
And casts a pensive look below—
Weak wanderer, trust the traitor, Man,
And take the help that we bestow."
Down to his side, with circling flight,
She flew, and perch'd, and linger'd there;
But, worn with wandering, droop'd her wing,
And life resign'd in empty air.
[24] Printed in the Daily Advertiser, February 22, 1790, under the title "The Bird at Sea," and republished only in the edition of 1795, from which the text is taken.
ON THE
DEMOLITION OF FORT-GEORGE
In New-York—1790[25]
As giants once, in hopes to rise,
Heaped up their mountains to the skies;
With Pelion piled on Ossa, strove
To reach the eternal throne of Jove;
So here the hands of ancient days
Their fortress from the earth did raise,
On whose proud heights, proud men to please,
They mounted guns and planted trees.
Those trees to lofty stature grown—
All is not right!—they must come down,
Nor longer waste their wonted shade
Where Colden slept, or Tryon strayed.