VII.

THE WORLD'S TRIUMPHS.

So far as I conceive the World's rebuke

To him address'd who would recast her new,
Not from herself her fame of strength she took,
But from their weakness, who would work her rue.
"Behold, she cries, so many rages lull'd,

So many fiery spirits quite cool'd down:
Look how so many valours, long undull'd,

After short commerce with me, fear my

frown.

Thou too, when thou against my crimes wouldst cry, Let thy foreboded homage check thy tongue.".

The World speaks well: yet might her foe reply

"Are wills so weak? then let not mine wait long.

Hast thou so rare a poison? let me be

Keener to slay thee, lest thou poison me.”

POEMS.

STANZAS

IN MEMORY OF THE LATE EDWARD QUILLINAN, ESQ.

I SAW him sensitive in frame,

I knew his spirits low;

And wish'd him health, success, and fame:

I do not wish it now.

For these are all their own reward,

And leave no good behind;

They try us, oftenest make us hard,
Less modest, pure, and kind.

Alas! Yet to the suffering man,

In this his mortal state,

Friends could not give what Fortune can

Health, ease, a heart elate.