He will sing of his country, his people and thine,
Exalt, if you aid him, your honor and fame.
Your sympathy, acting like purest of wine,
Will urge him to joyously sing of your name.
His case is peculiar, stern fate has been hard,
His body unfitted for labours of men,
His mind, with the sensitive make of the bard,
Unfitted for aught, but the work of the pen.
He singeth, but yet he must live, as he sings;
He hath wants of the earth, that must be supplied;
And tho' 'tis an off'ring most humble he brings,
He hopes that your favors will not be denied.
Our country is young, let us early instil
Deep into the minds of the youthful and fair,
The greatness of virtue, uprightness and will,
And the poet will help you to 'stablish them there.
Be it his to proclaim, e'en tho' rudely, in measure,
The rights of his country, her honour, renown;
To sing of whatever his people may treasure,
In court or in camp, in the country or town.
* * * * *
MAN AND HIS PLEASURES.
'Tis not with glad fruition crown'd,
We always feel our greatest joy;
For pleasure often dwells around
The heart that hopes, and knows no cloy.
We wait, we watch, we think, we plan
To catch the pleasure ere it flies,
But when 'tis caught, for which we ran,
It often droops, perchance, it dies.
In truth the non-possession oft'
Creates the chief, the only charm,
Of that, which, once obtain'd, is scoff'd,
And oft' receiv'd with vex'd alarm.