That Palliser, like Keppel brave,
Has baffled France on yonder wave;
And when his country ask'd the stake,
Has pledg'd his life for England's sake?
Though now he sink oppress'd with shame,
Forgetful of his former fame,

Yet Keppel with deserv'd applause
Proclaims him bold in Britain's cause,
And to his well known courage pays
The tribute of heroic praise.
Go learn of him whom ye adore,
Whose name now sets you in a roar,
Whom ye were more than half prepar'd
To pay with just the same reward,
To render praise where praise is due,
To keep his former deeds in view
Who fought and would have died for you.

A TALE, FOUNDED ON A FACT
WHICH HAPPENED IN JANUARY, 1779

[Written Jan., 1779. Published by Hayley, 1803.] WHERE Humber pours his rich commercial stream, There dwelt a wretch, who breath'd but to blaspheme. In subterraneous caves his life he led,

Black as the mine, in which he wrought for bread. When on a day, emerging from the deep,

A Sabbath-day! (such sabbaths thousands keep!) The wages of his weekly toil he bore

To buy a cock-whose blood might win him more; As if the noblest of the feather'd kind

Were but for battle and for death design'd;

As if the consecrated hours were meant

For sport, to minds on cruelty intent;

It chanc'd (such chances Providence obey!)
He met a fellow-lab'rer on the way,

Whose heart the same desires had once inflam'd-
But now the savage temper was reclaim'd;
Persuasion on his lips had taken place;

For all plead well, who plead the cause of grace!
His iron-heart with scripture he assail'd,
Woo'd him to hear a sermon, and prevail'd.
His faithful bow the mighty preacher drew,
Swift, as the lightning-glimpse, the arrow flew ;
He wept; he trembled; cast his eyes around,
To find a worse than he; but none he found.
6 sabbath Hayley (1806).

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20

He felt his sins, and wonder'd he should feel.
Grace made the wound, and grace alone could heal!
Now farewell oaths, and blasphemies, and lies!
He quits the sinner's for the martyr's prize.
That holy day was wash'd with many a tear,
Gilded with hope, yet shaded too by fear.
The next, his swarthy brethren of the mine
Learn'd, by his alter'd speech-the change divine!
Laugh'd when they should have wept, and swore
the day

Was nigh, when he would swear as fast as they.
No, (said the penitent); such words shall share
This breath no more; devoted now to pray'r.
Oh! if thou seest, (thine eye the future sees!)
That I shall yet again blaspheme, like these;
Now strike me to the ground, on which I kneel,
Ere yet this heart relapses into steel;
Now take me to that Heav'n, I once defied,
Thy presence, thy embrace!-He spoke, and died!

THE BEE AND THE PINE-APPLE

[Written Sept., 1779. Published, in Unpublished Poems of
Cowper, 1900, from the copy among the Ash MSS.]
A BEE allur'd by the perfume

Of a rich pine-apple in bloom,
Found it within a frame inclos'd,
And lick'd the glass that interpos'd.
Blossoms of apricot and peach,

The flow'rs that blow'd within his reach,
Were arrant drugs compar'd with that,
He strove so vainly to get at.

No rose could yield so rare a treat,
Nor jessamine were half so sweet.
The gard'ner saw this much ado,
(The gard'ner was the master too)
And thus he said-Poor restless bee!
I learn philosophy from thee,
I learn how just it is and wise,
To use what Providence supplies,
To leave fine titles, lordships, graces,
Rich pensions, dignities, and places,
Those gifts of a superior kind,

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40

10

To those for whom they were design'd.

I learn that comfort dwells alone

In that which Heav'n has made our own,
That fools incur no greater pain,

Than pleasure coveted in vain.

THE PINE-APPLE AND THE BEE [Written Sept., 1779. Published 1782. There is a copy among the Ash MSS.]

THE pine-apples, in triple row,
Were basking hot, and all in blow;
A bee of most discerning taste
Perceiv'd the fragrance as he pass'd,
On eager wing the spoiler came,
And search'd for crannies in the frame,
Urg'd his attempt on ev'ry side,
To ev'ry pane his trunk applied;
But still in vain, the frame was tight,
And only pervious to the light;
Thus having wasted half the day,
He trimm'd his flight another way.
Methinks, I said, in thee I find
The sin and madness of mankind.
To joys forbidden man aspires,
Consumes his soul with vain desires,
Folly the spring of his pursuit,
And disappointment all the fruit.

10

While Cynthio ogles as she passes

The nymph between two chariot glasses,

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She is the pine-apple, and he

The silly unsuccessful bee.

The maid who views with pensive air

The show-glass fraught with glitt'ring ware,
Sees watches, bracelets, rings, and lockets,
But sighs at thought of empty pockets;
Like thine, her appetite is keen,
But ah, the cruel glass between!
Our dear delights are often such,
Expos'd to view, but not to touch:
The sight our foolish heart inflames,
We long for pine-apples in frames:
With hopeless wish one looks and lingers;
One breaks the glass, and cuts his fingers
But they whom truth and wisdom lead,
Can gather honey from a weed.

ON THE

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PROMOTION OF EDWARD THURLOW, ESQ. TO THE LORD HIGH CHANCELLORSHIP OF ENGLAND [Written Nov., 1779. Published 1782.]

ROUND Thurlow's head in early youth,
And in his sportive days,

Fair science pour'd the light of truth,
And genius shed his rays.

7 Urg'd] Push'd 4.

9 still] all 4.

298 PROMOTION OF EDWARD THURLOW

See with united wonder cried
Th' experienc'd and the sage,
Ambition in a boy supplied
With all the skill of age!

Discernment, eloquence, and grace,
Proclaim him born to sway
The balance in the highest place,
And bear the palm away.

The praise bestow'd was just and wise;
He sprang impetuous forth,

Secure of conquest where the prize

Attends superior worth.

So the best courser on the plain
Ere yet he starts is known,
And does but at the goal obtain
What all had deem'd his own.

HUMAN FRAILTY

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[Written Nov. (?), 1779. Published 1782. There is a MS. copy in the British Museum.]

WEAK and irresolute is man ;

The purpose of to-day,

Woven with pains into his plan,

To-morrow rends away.

The bow well bent, and smart the spring,

Vice seems already slain ;

But passion rudely snaps the string,

And it revives again.

Some foe to his upright intent

Finds out his weaker part;

Virtue engages his assent,

But pleasure wins his heart.

8

'Tis here the folly of the wise

Through all his art we view;

And, while his tongue the charge denies,
His conscience owns it true.

Bound on a voyage of awful length
And dangers little known,

A stranger to superior strength,
Man vainly trusts his own.

But oars alone can ne'er prevail

To reach the distant coast,

The breath of heav'n must swell the sail,

Or all the toil is lost.

21 alone can] alas could BM.

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THE YEARLY DISTRESS

OR, TITHING TIME AT STOCK IN ESSEX

VERSES addressed to a Country Clergyman complaining of the disagreeableness of the day annually appointed for receiving the Dues at the Parsonage.

[Written to Unwin, Dec., 1779 (MS. in British Museum). Published in The Gentleman's Magazine Aug., 1783; afterwards in 1800.]

COME, ponder well, for 'tis no jest,

To laugh it would be wrong;
The troubles of a worthy priest
The burthen of my song.

This priest he merry is and blithe
Three quarters of the year,
But oh! it cuts him like a scythe
When tithing time draws near.

He then is full of frights and fears,
As one at point to die,
And long before the day appears
He heaves up many a sigh.

For then the farmers come jog, jog,
Along the miry road,

Each heart as heavy as a log,

To make their payments good.

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In sooth, the sorrow of such days

Is not to be express'd,

When he that takes and he that pays

Are both alike distress'd.

Now all unwelcome, at his gates
The clumsy swains alight,

With rueful faces and bald pates-

He trembles at the sight.

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And well he may, for well he knows
Each bumpkin of the clan,

Instead of paying what he owes,

Will cheat him if he can.

So in they come-each makes his leg,
And flings his head before,

And looks as if he came to beg,

And not to quit a score.

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"And how does miss and madam do,

The little boy and all?"

"All tight and well: and how do you,
Good Mr. What-d'ye-call?"

9 frights BM., 1783: fright 1800, 1803.