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“ The soldier, tir'd of war's alarms,
And drops the spear and shield:
And dares again the field.”
Oh ! be the example copied in each heart,
generous toils With what he deems his best reward, your smiles.
E P IGRA M.
E P. I G R A M.
ON DOCTOR FRANKLIN's POINTED ELECTRICAL
CONDUCTORS BEING TAKEN, DOWN AT BUCK-
OUR public buildings to defend
From the keen lightning's brunt, Some pointed rods would recommend,
Others prefer the BLUNT.
Let me too, 'midst this learned throng,
Shew how to save our structures ; Alas! we've tried the blunt too long,
We now want sHARP CONDUCTORS,
F. R. S,
HIS MAJESTY'S BIRTH-DAY ;
WRITTEN BY WILLIAM WHITEHEAD, ESQ; POET
LAUREAT, AND PERFORMED AT ST. JAMES'S ON THE FOURTH OF JUNE, 1776, BY HIS MAjesty'S BAND OF MUSICIANS.
YE western gales, whose genial breath
One verdant livery wears :
And dry the morning's tears.
This is your season, lovely gales,
Why, therefore, in yon dubious sky,
On distant scenes intent,
Suspend some great event?
But strives to smooth th' unruly flood,
While yet, ye winds, your breezy balm
Your genuine powers exert;
And humanize the heart!
Propitious gales, O wing your way!
Whence temper'd Freedom springs;
Bring peace upon your wings !
A B A L LAD
WRITTEN, OR RATHER SPOKEN, BY A GENTLE‘MAN, AT COMING INTO A COFFEE-HOUSE, FROM THE ABOVE MUSICAL ENTERTAINMENT,
no more of the breezes-some wine and to.
bacco, A plague on his weft, 'tis an arrant † firocco ; As I live the damn'd poet has brought 'em together, To warble of winds, and to sing of the weather.
Then he talk'd, filly fellow, of tumult and war, And he fet Expectation aloft in the air, Like a witch on her broom looking out of the north, To see if the storm she had rais'd was gone forth.
Time was, that a laureat sweetly would fing Of the virtue, or valour, or wit of the king. That time is no more, and we now cannot hear, Any praise of our monarch once in a year.
A peftilential south-welt wind.
Caliban. Tempest, Act. IV.