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For any novelty, and show
Insensibility makes some
When most you need their pity;
The great and small but rarely meet
The attempt would scarce be madder,
Of an erected ladder.
Courtier and patriot cannot, mix
Their heterogeneous politics
Without an effervescence,
Such as of salts with lemon juice
Religion should extinguish strife,
But even those who differ
Only on topics left at large;
How fiercely will they meet and charge; 125 No combatants are stiffer.
To prove, alas! my main intent,
To adopt the chemist's golden dream
Then judge, or ere you choose your man
And, having made election,
It is not timber, lead, and stone,
To finish a great building;
The palace were but half complete,
As similarity of mind,
Or something not to be defined,
Must save it from declension.
The man who hails you Tom or Jack,
His sense of your great merit,
Is such a friend, that one had need
Some friends make this their prudent plan
'Say little, and hear all you can;"
Safe policy, but hateful.
So barren sands imbibe the shower,
They whisper trivial things, and small,
Things serious, deem improper;
These samples (for alas! at last
Pursue the theme, and you shall find
To be at least expedient;
And after summing all the rest,
True friendship has, in short, a grace
That proves it heaven-descended:
To last till life is ended.
ON THE LOSS OF THE ROYAL GEORGE° [To the March in “Scipio"]
WRITTEN WHEN THE NEWS ARRIVED
Down went the Royal George,
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;
His sword was in his sheath;
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;