his list’ning ear,
Is ever open, and his heart sincere
In gen’rous bounty, wafts the swift relief,
To whom stern mis’ry overloads with grief;
And if he can’t restore the broken heart,
His sympathizing bosom bears a part:
Thus sensibility his heart to bless,
In sweet o’erflowings shews its fine impress;
And he who can this balmy balsam share,
The better graces nurtures plump and fair:
It is the soil in which the Virtues grow,
To gild the fields, and paint the vales below;
Sow but the seeds, the germs will quickly shoot,
And grow luxuriant from the fruitful root;
Mature through life, and when the Angels reap,
The ripened harvest, in bright worlds will keep;
For sympathizing feelings warm the breast,
Of heavenly spirits and delight the blest;
And when sweet sympathies the bosom move,
We most resemble Heaven, for Heaven is love.

* * * * *

But cease fond Muse nor longer strive to paint,
His bright perfections with thy pencil faint;
Nor more attempt that conduct to relate,
Which guides the Patriot in a sinking state;
When ev’ry action of his life is lent,
To guard his Country, or to serve her meant;
Could we retrace the fifty years gone by—
But who can look at them without a sigh;
What act designed our freedom to defend,
Did not his influence and his vote befriend;
What meant to ease the burdens of the land,
Did not his instant patronage command;
The Press’ Liberty, the Jury’s right,
Supporting still, with reasons clearest light,
Sweet Peace, to keep or to restore her reign,
He deemed no effort lost, no labour vain;
For well he knew protected by her smile,
Arts, Commerce, Science, flourish in our Isle.
When looking back a century or more,
With anxious heart our errors to explore;
The faults he sees desirous to amend,
The People’s glory and his Country’s friend;
Sought every means which wisdom can suggest,
To keep the fre’est system still the best;
By rectifying ev’ry known abuse,
Which gliding time is apt to introduce,
In the best schemes devised by human skill,
And thus preserve its pristine vigour still,
Has ever been his object, hope and aim,
And from this Public Virtue springs his fame:
And yet no visionary schemer he,
Would ne’er advance beyond what he could see
His wish to mend, but fearful of mistake,
He never wish’d to change for changing sake;
But what experience shows the times require,
Limit his wish and bound his whole desire;
E’en these to gain by gentle means he tries,
By mild expedients, and by measures wise;
Not anxious grasping to get all he sees,
At one rude effort, but by slow degrees;
Nor would he e’er despise what power would grant,
Because he knows it is not all we want;
But takes with joy the good he can obtain,
And hopes in time the residue to gain;
This hope at length the grateful Patriot saw,
Half gratified—by Justice, Truth, and Law;
And though he trembled at the threatened storm,
The tempest saw repelled by mild Reform;
And what for fifty years he sought in vain,
Lives to behold in a fourth William’s reign;
And a