one of them I believe was written with a view

to publication, but I was unwilling they should be omitted.

Charles Square, Hoxton,
February 18, 1782.

JOHN NEWTON.

Verfes, fuppofed to be written by Alexander Selkirk, during

his folitary Abode in the Island of Juan Fernandes

On the Promotion of EDWARD THURLOW, Efq. to the

Lord High Chancellorship of England

Ode to Peace

Human Frailty

The Modern Patriot

Page

I

35

63

88

121

155

183

222

257

259

261

-

263

266

267

269

270

On obferving fome Names of little Note recorded in the

BIOGRAPHIA BRITANNICA

272

Report of an adjudged Cafe, not to be found in any of the

Books

On the burning of Lord Mansfield's Library, together with

his MSS. by the Mob, in June 1780

On the fame

Page

273

275

The Love of the World reproved; or, Hypocrify detected

The Lily and the Rofe

The Poet, the Oyfter, and the Senfitive Plant

On the Receipt of my Mother's Picture out of Norfolk

To the Rev. Mr. William Cawthorne Unwin

TABLE TALK.

Si te fortè meæ gravis uret farcina chartæ,
HOR. Lib. I. Epift. 13.

Abjicito.

4. You told me, I remember, glory, ·built
On selfish principles, is fhame and guilt;
The deeds that men admire as half divine,
Stark naught, because corrupt in their defign.
Strange doctrine this! that without fcruple tears
The laurel that the very lightning fpares;
Brings down the warrior's trophy to the duft,
And eats into his bloody sword like rust.

B. I grant that, men continuing what they are,
Fierce, avaricious, proud, there must be war.
And never meant the rule should be applied
To him that fights with justice on his fide.

Let laurels, drench'd in pure Parnaffian dews,
Reward his mem'ry, dear to ev'ry muse,
Who, with a courage of unshaken root,
In honour's field advancing his firm foot,
Plants it upon the line that justice draws,
And will prevail or perish in her cause.
"Tis to the virtues of fuch men, man owes
His portion in the good that heaven bestows.
And, when recording history displays
Feats of renown, though wrought in ancient days,
Tells of a few ftout hearts that fought and died
Where duty plac'd them, at their country's fide;
The man that is not mov'd with what he reads,
That takes not fire at their heroic deeds,
Unworthy of the bleffings of the brave,
Is bafe in kind, and born to be a flave.
But let eternal infamy pursue

The wretch to nought but his ambition true,
Who, for the fake of filling with one blast
The post-horns of all Europe, lays her waste.
Think yourself ftation'd on a tow'ring rock,
To fee a people scatter'd like a flock,
Some royal maftiff panting at their heels,
With all the favage thirft a tyger feels;