ON COMPLETING HIS SIXTY-SEVENTH VOLUME.
URBAN, another fleeting year
On us has clos'd its mild career:
The Century's end itself is near.,
Yet what is TIME-an empty name,
Compar'd with endless Being's claim,
Endless renown, or endless fhame!
Still, URBAN, thy revolving page
Muft every serious mind engage,
And live efteem'd through every age.
Thy judgement culls the waried ftores
Induftrious Literature explores
On British or on foreign fhores;
To all thy British spirit fpeaks;
While War around its fury wreaks,
Europe takes democratic freaks.
While War embrues th' enfanguin'd plains,
Our annals blood lefs Difcord ftains,
And partially of Tax complains,
Britons, your Wealth's increasing tide
Can never fure be unfupply'd,
While conquering Chiefs your Navy guide!
Benevolence, with afpect bland,
And Loyalty, fhall guard your land;
Each ope her fource with liberal hand.
While patriot honours round thee crowd,
URBAN, in merit ever proud,
To praise thee may I be allow'd.
Crown'd with applaufe, thy confcious breast,
Where strictest honour stands confeft,
Taftes full reward of virtuous reft.
Intrepid Spirit, Confcience clear,
Open once more another year,
Nor e'er thine own OBITUARY fear.
**From Mr. Bent's Meteorological Journal of 1797 it appears, that the fall of rain was 25 inches, above one half more than in 1796; of which quantity more than 19 inches fell between April and September, and above 9 of those in the months of June and September. The following remarkable circumftance is alfo noted-By the general bill of mortality for 1797 there is a decrease in burials of 2274; but it is worthy of obfervation, that the total amount of burials in the fmall-pox is only 522, while in the year 1796 the number was 3548, making a difference of 3026; therefore, fetting afide this disease, more appear to have died in 1797 than in the preceding year.