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Yet ev’n those bones from insult to protect
Their name, their years, fpelt by the unletter'd Muse,
For who to dumb Forgetfulness a prey,
On some fond breast the parting soul relies,
For thee, who mindful of th' unhonour's Dead
Haply fome hoary-headed swain may say,
Brushing with halty steps the dews away
One morn I miss'd him on the custom'd hill,
Another came; nor yet beside the rill,
· The next with dirges due in fad array, • Slow through the church-way path we saw him born, ' Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay, • Gravid on the stone beneath yon aged thorn.'
HERE refis his head upon the lap of Earth,
A Youth to Fortune and to fame unknorun ; Fair Science frown'd not on his humble birth, And Melancholy markd him for her own.
Large was his bounty, and his soul fincere,
No farther seek his merits to disclose,
ORROWING, the Nine beneath yon blasted yew
Shed the bright drops of Pity's holy dew!
Ye, who ere while for Cook's illustrious brow
In sad proceflion wander round the shrine,
Say first, what Pow'r inspir'd his dauntless breast With scorn of danger and inglorious rest, To quit imperial London's gorgeous plains, Where, rob'd in thousand tints, bright Pleasure reigns ; cups
of summer-ice her nectar pours, And twines, 'mid wintry snows, her roseate bow'rs ? Where Beauty moves with undulating grace, Calls the sweet blush to wanton o'er her face, On each fond Youth her soft artillery tries, Aims her light smile, and rolls her frolic eyes ?
What Pow'r inspir'd his dauntless breast to brave The scorch'd Equator, and th' Antarctic wave ? Climes, where fierce suns in cloudless ardors shine, And pour the-dazzling deluge round the Line ; The realms of frost, where icy mountains rise, 'Mid the pale summer of the polar skies? It was HUMANITY!-on coasts unknown, The shiv'ring natives of the frozen zone, And the swart Indian, as he faintly Itrays " Where Cancer reddens in the folar blaze." She bade him seek ;-on each inclement shore Plant the rich seeds of her exhaustless store ; Unite the favage hearts, and hostile hands, In the firm compact of her gentle bands ; Strew her foft comfort's o'er the barren plain, Sing her sweet lays, and confecrate her fane.
IT WAS HUMANITY!-O Nymph divine !