Let Whig Rhetoricians our rulers defame,
And hungry Sedition's republican flame

Foment, and throw chips on,

Independance their lips on,

While they incense a mob, and exist by Subscription: Here of Liberty's Tree if for scyons they search, They'll instead catch a tartar,-Wiccamical Birch.

CHORUS.

Let WICKHAM's brave boys, &c.

Ye Poetical tribe, on Parnassus who forage,
Who prate of Jove's nectar and Helicon-porridge,
Yet, for beef-stakes and brandy,

Set each Jack-a-dandy

On a level with Frederick, or Prince Ferdinandy: What's the sword of King Arthur, or Admiral Hosier, TO WILLIAM of WICKHAM and his jolly old Crosier!

CHORUS.

Let WICKHAM's brave boys, at the Crown and the Anchor, The flask never quit 'till clean out they have drank her ; And united maintain, whether sober or mellow,

That old BILLY WICKHAM was a very fine fellow.

THE HERMITAGE.

BENEATH thy shelter, LOWLY CELL!
How blest is he who bids farewell

The world, and vain delights foregoes
For calm content, and bland repose!

Can the dome of costly mould, Fretted arch emboss'd with gold, Lavish sculpture's proud design,

Sooth the soul with charms like thine?

I love thy solitary gloom,

I love the roses wild that bloom

Around thy porch-I love to trace
Thy precincts, where each simple grace
Surpasses all that art hath plann'd ;

Thy roof of spar, and floor of sand,

Thy thick-wove thatch with moss o'ergrown,
Thy whispering rill, whose current lone
The ozier flings its wreaths aslant,
And sapphire-plumed halcyons haunt:
And, stretch'd thy rushy couch along,
To listen to the blackbird's song,
Hear him his amorous pains relate
Melodious to his jetty mate.

While faintly born upon the breeze
The dove's responsive murmurs please;
And from the sheep-cote in the dell
Soft tinkling chimes the weather's bell,
Accordant to the chearful strain

Of milk-maid blithe, and whistling swain.

And, ere the western waves absorb
The beams of Day's refulgent orb,
I love to traverse, unespied,
Thy beach-clad hillock's verdant side,
O'er each dun brake and shadowy dell,
While Fancy breathes her magic spell,
Assembling all her sylvan clan,

Her dryads, fauns, and laughing Pan;

Or calls the Muses from the spheres

With heavenly strains to soothe mine ears, Or conjures up äerial forms

To marshal all the fairy swarms

That quaff their acorn cups, and sing,
And frisk, and dance in sportive ring,
Tinging, where'er their tracks are seen,
The circled sward with richer green.

Or wend with Meditation thro'
The deep, umbrageous avenue
Emerging oft, the groves between,
On flowery lawn, or pasture green,
Or upland, whence, to feast my sight
A thousand beauteous scenes unite;
The venerable oaks that wear

The rich robe of the waining year,
Studded with sails the river's tide,
Diffusing wealth and verdure wide;
Tall cliffs illumin'd with the gleam
Of downward Titan's glowing beam,
The fleecy tribes that seek their fold,
Empurpled clouds with skirts of gold,

Redundant sheaves of ripen'd grain,

And shadows lenghthening on the plain :
Till, summon'd by the curfew's sound,

While falling dews embathe the ground,
Again I seek the friendly shade

From whence my devious steps have stray'd,

Repass the lawn, and hawthorn dell,

Regain thy shelter, LOWLY CELL!

There spread my board with simplest fare;
Supremely blest if CYNTHIA share

The mellow treasures Autumn gives,
The beverage nectar-yielding hives

To crown my rural cheer impart,

And yield me in return her heart.