Her sons too weak to vanquish us alone,

She hires the worst and basest of our own.

Kneel, France! a suppliant conquers us with ease, We always spare a coward on his knees.

MOTTO ON A CLOCK.

WITH A TRANSLATION BY HAYLEY.

QUE lenta accedit, quam velox præterit hora!
Ut capias, patiens esto, sed esto vigil!

Slow comes the hour; its passing speed how great!
Waiting to seize it--vigilantly wait!

A SIMILE LATINIZED.

Sors adversa gerit stimulum, sed tendit et alas : Pungit api similis, sed velut ista fugit.

ON THE LOSS OF THE ROYAL GEORGE.

WRITTEN WHEN THE NEWS ARRIVED.

TO THE MARCH IN SCIPIO.

TOLL for the brave!

The brave that are no more!

All sunk beneath the wave,

Fast by their native shore !

Eight hundred of the brave,

Whose courage well was tried,

Had made the vessel heel,

And laid her on her side.

A land-breeze shook the shrouds,
And she was overset ;

Down went the Royal George,
With all her crew complete.

Toll for the brave!

Brave Kempenfelt is gone;
His last sea-fight is fought;
His work of glory done.

It was not in the battle;

No tempest gave the shock ;

She sprang no fatal leak;
She ran upon no rock.

His sword was in its sheath;
His fingers held the pen,

When Kempenfelt went down

With twice four hundred men.

Weigh the vessel up,

Once dreaded by our foes!

And mingle with our cup

The tear that England owes.

Her timbers yet are sound,

And she may float again

Full charged with England's thunder,

And plough the distant main.

But Kempenfelt is gone,

His victories are o'er ;

And he and his eight hundred
Shall plough the wave no more.

Sept. 1782.

IN SUBMERSIONEM NAVIGII, CUI GEORGIUS REGALE NOMEN INDITUM.

PLANGIMUS fortes. Periêre fortes,
Patrium propter periêre littus
Bis quatèr centum; subitò sub alto
Æquore mersi.

Navis, innitens lateri, jacebat,

Malus ad summas trepidabat undas,
Cùm levis, funes quatiens, ad imum
Depulit aura.

Plangimus fortes. Nimis, heu, caducam
Fortibus vitem voluêre parcæ,

Nec sinunt ultrà tibi nos recentes
Nectere laurus,

Magne, qui nomen, licèt incanorum,
Traditum ex multis atavis tulisti !
At tuos olim memorabit ævum

Omne triumphos.

Non hyems illos furibunda mersit,
Non mari in clauso scopuli latentes,
Fissa non rimis abies, nec atrox
Abstulit ensis.

Navitæ sed tum nimium jocosi
Voce fallebant hilari laborem,
Et quiescebat, calamoque dextram im-
pleverat heros

Vos, quibus cordi est grave opus piumque,
Humidum ex alto spolium levate,
Et putrescentes sub aquis amicos
Reddite amicis !

Hi quidem (sic dîs placuit) fuêre:
Sed ratis, nondùm putris, ire possit
Rursus in bellum, Britonumque nomen
Tollere ad astra.

IN BREVITATEM VITÆ SPATII HOMINIBUS CONCESSI.

BY DR. JORTIN.

HEI mihi! lege ratâ sol occidit atque resurgit, Lunaque mutatæ reparat dispendia formæ, Astraque, purpurei telis extincta diei,

Rursus nocte vigent. Humiles telluris alumni.

Graminis herba virens, et florum picta propago,
Quos crudelis hyems lethali tabe peredit,
Cum Zephyri vox blanda vocat, rediitque seren
Temperies anni, fœcundo è cespite surgunt.
Nos domini rerum, nos, magna et pulchra minati,
Cum breve ver vitæ robustaque transiit ætas,
Deficimus; nec nos ordo revolubilis auras
Reddit in æthereas, tumuli neque claustra resolvit.

ON THE SHORTNESS OF HUMAN LIFE.

TRANSLATION OF THE FOREGOING.

SUNS that set, and moons that wane,

Rise and are restored again;

Stars, that orient day subdues,

Night at her return renews.

Herbs and flowers, the beauteous birth

Of the genial womb of earth,
Suffer but a transient death
From the winter's cruel breath.
Zephyr speaks; serener skies
Warm the glebe, and they arise.
We, alas! earth's haughty kings,
We, that promise mighty things,
Losing soon life's happy prime,
Droop, and fade, in little time.
Spring returns, but not our bloom;
Still 'tis winter in the tomb.

Jan. 1784.