ODE ON MODERATION.

BY PETER PINDAR.

SOME folks are mad, and do not know it,"
Says fome one-I forget the poet;
And verily the bard was in the right
Wild as a puppy chafing butterflies,

The world hunts Tranfport with keen nofe and eyes-
Deceitful lafs, who often proves a bite!

The calm, cool, philofophic hour,

The purling brook, the woodbine bow'r,

The grove's, the valley's sweet and fimple fong;
Morn's virgin blush and Evening's setting ray,
On more than half the world are thrown away,
Whofe joys muft like a whirlwind pour along.

Calmly let me begin and end Life's chapter,
Ne'er panting for a hurricane of rapture;
Calm let me walk-not riotous and jumping;
With due decorum let my heart
Perform a fober, quiet part-

Not at the ribs be ever bumping, bumping!
Rapture's a charger, often breaks his girt-
Runs off, and flings,his rider in the dirt.

Lo, when for Gretna Green the couple start,
Love plays his gambols through each throbbing heart :—
Squeezing and hugging, kiffing, on they go;

Wild, from the chaife they poke their heads to John-
"Make hafte, dear Jolin; drive on, drive on, drive ou!
Lord, Lord-your borfes are fo very flow!"
And whilft for Gretna Green each turtle fighs,
The Blacksmith* feems' an angel in their eyes!
But when this Blackfmith has perform'd his part,
Poffeffion quells the tumults of the heart:

*Alfo a divine, who gains a confiderable maintenance by making matrimonial chains as well as horseshoes.

The

The heart with foaming bliss no more boils over!
Now leifurely into the chaife they get;

They afk no John to drive, no horfe to fweat-
No eyes' keen fparkle fhows the burning lover!
No kiffes 'midft the jolting road they snap;
Cælia now takes a comfortable nap ;
Down on her cheeks her locks difhevell'd flow-
Not vastly smooth, but much like locks of hay
Her cap, not much refembling Alpine fnow,
Shook from the rolling, wearied head away!
The youth too, with his noddle on his breast,
'His hair all careless, much in hay-like trim;
As though sweet Wedlock's joys had loft their zeft,
As though a dull indiff'rence damn'd the whim,
With mouth half fhut, that heavy seems to fay---
'The devil take the Blacksmith, and the day
That tied me to that trollop, now my wife,
Juft like a jack-afs to a poft-for life!"

ODE TO THE OCEAN.

BY SIMPKIN SLENDER WIT, ESQ.

[From the Morning Herald.]

OCEAN! thou guardian and friend to mankind,
To the best of thy favours how many are blind!"
The merchant, who cares but to live like himself,
Extols thee for floating home coffers of pelf;
The alderman pours out his thanks to his God,
Who ftock'd thee with falmon, and turbot, and cod!
The Scholar, who knows not the bleffings of home,
ings thy waves fo tranfporting, which waft him from home,
And fhow him old Peloponnefus at Rome!

Which led him to climes fam'd for Pompeys and Neroes,
And bring him to plains trod by confuls and heroes.
While philofophers, poring from midnight till noon,
Make us ftare with their tales of a jig to the moon n!
But I thy waves honour with juft veneration,
For diffufing fuch good o'er the whole of this nation.
In infancy thou, while we ftruggle and fquall,
Driv'ft off fcrofula, rickets, and weakness, and all:

M 3

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'Tis

'Tis thou giv'ft to Jacky and Sufan-fweet pair,
The bleffing they 've ianguifh'd fo long for an heir !
Returning from thee with thy bounties elate,
Sue brings home a boy to retain the eftate !
'Tis thou giv'ft the rake, weak with revels and pain,
To pick up his crumbs, and go to it again;
'Tis thou giv'ft the demi-rep, flave to disease,
Again to recover her talent to please;

'fis the virtue fupreme of thy Catholic wave,
That fo many poor mortals each fummer doth fave,
That refcues their lives from the grave and from crutches,
If it wash but a beggar, a duke, or a dutchefs!
Then, oh! may thy waters, for ages yet longer,
Continue this nation to cleanfe and make ftronger,
May they wash off decrepitude, lengthen our lives,
And faften the knot 'twixt our husbands and wives ;
Grant them conjugal blifs, fuch as fent from above,
And give them each year a fweet pledge of their love;
Make us potent in council, and wife in debate,.
To keep off our enemies far from the state!
And oh! may thy borders each fummer display
A group thus harmonious, lively, and gay,
Where unanimous all, there's no ftruggle or ftrife,
But to throw away MONEY and treasure up LIFE.

་

REPUBLICAN ARITHMETIC;

OR, TELEGRAPHIC DECEPTION: A SONG.

[From the True Briton.]

WHAT news?" faid John Bull to a croaker. "Alack,
Sad news from Helvetia, they fay;

Thirty thousand men difh'd by the French in a crack,
And the reft with Suworrow at bay."

"Pray, how did this come?"-"Why, by papers from France, And their Telegraph brought the account."

"That it all is a hum then there is a great chance, For you know how republicans couut,

If with the allies a flight skirmish takes place,
Why they quick their arithmetic roufe, and
f a Ruffian or two get a fcratch in the face,
They tell us they 've done for a thousand :
Quick to Paris the news of fo great an event
The Telegraph brings in dumb miffion ;
As the people can't tell by its figus what is meant,
The Directory teach 'em addition.

When a battle is fought, and the Eagles fucceed
Moft completely in threshing the Frog,

army

fhould bleed,

Though ten thousand men of their
They again their arithmetic jog;
They allow they gave way, but 't was nothing at all,
They loft but a hundred in action;

So deducting, in lofs, the great fum, leave a small,
To prove they have studied subtraction.

"And now that perhaps an advantage they 've gain'd,
Though trifling, compar'd to their story,
Unus'd to a victory truly obtain'd,

Why, egad, they are all drunk with glory;
And when in that ftate, man fees double we know,

And 't is fo perhaps with the Great Nation,

That the number they 've taken, or kill'd of their foe,

They give us by multiplication.

"And if to their forrow their armies are beat,

Though Victory baffles their caufe,

Though confufion and flight prove their conqueft complete,
Yet ftill at the truth they will pause;

Though the action was hard, 't was a drawn battle ftill;
All yielding they hold in derifion;

For though they are routed by courage and skill,

Yet they balance the day by divifion.

"Before we can well to the next rule advance,

Which Cocker lays down in rotation,

We must take off two kings, and leave but one to France,
That's the best golden rule of a nation

And as for the next, they inftruct us at school,
Our foldiers and tars, when they reach 'em,
Will prove that to conquer with truth is a rule
In practice they ever will teach 'em."

FATE OF FRANCE.

IMITATED FROM HORACE, BOOK I. ODE XV.

Paftor quam traheret per freta navibus.

[From the fame.]

I.

WHEN Gallia's haughty rulers fent
The leader of their rebel hoft,

New plagues, in Freedom's garb, to vent
On Egypt's defolated coaft,

Old Neptune from his oozy bed

Rais'd high his ftorm-difperfing head, And thus in accents clear and strong,

To Gallia's future fate he rais'd the facred fong:

II.

"Forbear! forbear! ill-fated France,
To fend forth your devoted crew;
Where'er your timorous fleets advance,
England's are eager to pursue.

And lo! fhe tracks th' intended guile
Even to the shores of distant Nile;
They meet-I fee the midnight flame,

Glory and pride to her, to thee defeat and flame.

III.

"Alas! what toils, thy ills to crown, Futurity's dark fhades conceal!

Crimes that fhall draw due vengeance down

From Heaven-Fate haftens to reveal.

To mighty Emperors draw the fword;

Whole nations, to their God restor'd,

Blefs the firm phalanx-join the band,

And fear and civil difcord madden round thy land.

IV.

"In vain on Fortune's airy car,
A while upborn thy ftreamers fly;
Thy youth rush eager to the war,
And, idly impious, threat the fky.