AN ADDRESS

For the Anniversary of the Literary Fund,
April 21, 1803. Written and recited by
WILLIAM-THOMAS FITZGERALD, Efq.
"AIL to this day! Your bounty fet

HALL

apart,

To foothe the forrows of the fick at heart; To fuccour thofe who waste the midnight oil

In ftudious labours and in mental toil;
Who bitter wants in folitude endure,
Enriching nations, while themselves are
poor!

The infant efforts which you early made,
To refcue Genius from Oblivion's fhade,
And meliorate the ftarving Sage's lot,
In lapfe of time fhall never be forgot!
Tho' now your pow'rs with rolling years
increase,

Augment in War, and multiply in Peace; Build a foundation, on which Time fhall raife

A lafting pillar to your well-earn'd praise! Shewing a bright example to men's eyes, From what weak means the nobleft works may rife:

E'en Rival Nations to your fame aspire, And, while they copy, prove that they admire *:

Thus the Banyan †, which solitary stood, Becomes the parent of the mighty wood; To the rich foil the boughs depending

fhoot,

And, Heav'n-directed! take eternal root. Though great the ills that poverty create, Some men are born fuperior to their fate; For, wanting all the giddy world adores, Fashion's gay plume, and fickle Fortune's ftores;

Yet Heav'n, in all its difpenfations kind,
Oft gives the Bard an energy of mind;
Which ever in his manly hofom glows,
And cheers him in the midft of all his woes :
Though poor of more than hoarded
wealth poffeft,
[breath;
Of freedom's fire, that warms a Briton's
That fire, first kindled by the Hand Divine,
Which is, my cherish'd Country! only thine!
'Tis thine alone-for caft thine eyes around,
Where else does Freedom's Sun illume the

wife :

Not fo the Prince whoBritain's fceptresways, The object of the free-born Mufe's praife! His fubje&ts' rights are fotter'd in his mind--; The lov'd, the honour'd. Titas of mankind! O'er whom may Heav'n its awful æis

throw,

To blaft the traitor, and confound the foe1
If this lov'd fpark of Freedom's purest fire
Be quench'd by Vice, or fuffer'd to expire:
If timid Policy the right delroy,
Source of our greatnefs! day-fpring of our
Farewell the boafted liberties you own,
That blefs the cottage, and engem the

Throne !

Which check Ambition in his wild career, And Factions awe to falutary fear: Farewell that inborn dignity of mind, Which rais'd you from the level of man

kind;

horr'd,

That pow'r to plead with bold undaunted zeal weall The caufe of Freedom, and of England's Farewell the Prefs! - by foreign foes ab[(word! And dreaded more than your avenging The noble fabric, by our Fathers rais'd, Which, but once known, is ever to be pras'd l

They start in ftreams of gratitude alone.

Can they who bound at eafe o'er claffic ground,

Content to view the fairy profpect round, Forget the man, whofe toils in fecret tend To fmooth the fteep, by which they may afcend?

Explore the mines beneath to charm their
fight,
[light?

With ORE, his fabours only brought to
Or wind the labyrinth, obícure, alone,
To cull the fweets from flowers, till then-
unknown;

Laden with treafure, like the bees' employ,
To heap the hive for others to enjoy ?
Can they, thus favour'd, on their way

proceed,

Regardless of the Claffic Peafant's need? For, oh not all the letter'd wealth that ftores his brain,

Can yield one nite to efe his hofom's pain: Can they?-Oh! no!—your glorious deeds proclaim,

A Nation's Glory muft not prove its Shame. Thefe crowded walls, all eloquent, declare The Sons of Science never thall defpair; Nor shall the deathlefs wreath, that binds their brows,

Be all the meed a thoughtlefs world bestows.

Oh! no! thou Child of Genius and Woe!
No more thy forrows fhall unheeded flow;
Nor is the privilege to us confin'd,
To feel the pangs of thy exalted mind:
In diftant climes thy fecret fighs are heard,
Thy wants are fuccour'd, and thy fame
rever'd.-

INDUS for you unlocks her golden ftores*,
And the fame bark, that quits her prof-
peròus fhores,
[great,
The great makes wealthy, and the wealthy
For Pity there to you configns her freight.
Oh might the lines that advocate their
cause,

And for relief folicit, not applaufe;
In fome high-favour'd moment find accefs
Oh! might the matchlefs Graces of our
To Beauty's eye, the foother of distress!

Ine

[(mile! On this, the Mules' claim, but deign to Might thofe foft fhrines, where melting Mercy fhews

Of hapless OTWAY; for he made his care
Her pureft gems, but kindle at the woes
Whofe filver numbers never fail to move
To paint the wrongs and virtues of the Fair : \
The mind to Honour and to virtuous Love:
Shield of their fex, and champion of their
His heart all foftness, but his foul all truth,
youth,
Who lov'd their innocence, upheld their
[their fhame;

fame,

Who fhar'd their forrows, and who mourn'd Oh! might his fate, refiflefs as his verse, With woes unfeign'd their gentle bofoms To prove at once our ornament and aid, pierce, 'Twould be a tribute grateful to his fhade. For deeds of mercy, where they take their part,

Affect more tenderly the human heart; And human forrows ever held most dear The mighty magic of the Female's tear. Might hearts that (well the Hero to reward But fpare one figh for the recording Bard; Then would the Poet's bays have like renown,

And emulate the Victor's laurel crown: The Lyre, tho' cyprefs-clad, we then might

Oft art thou feen befide the willowy stream; And, though no youthful fmile adorns thy face,

Tho' on thy cheek no roses we may chace, Yet doft thou, in thy spring of life, fome virgin feem!

Thy vefture careless hangs, as fnow-drop white; [thy zone; Loole floating fall thy locks; unbound Thine eye now foftly fad, now wildly bright, [love but one. Befpeaks a Lover dead, and thou wilt Now art thou feen flow-lingering in the wood, [throat, Where pours the nightingale her liquid And varies thro' the night her love-lorn

note, [brood; As tho' her mate were fled, or tender To thee more pleafing then the vestment gray, [train, Pale Mourner! faddeft of the widow Doom'd to lament, at thy dark close of day, Some aged Priam dead, fome youthful

Hector flain.

Then hafte thee, QUEEN of Woɛ, from

mortal eye;

Thy manfion fix within fome lowly cell, Where pale-ey'd Superftition loves to dwell,

Wearied of life, and lingers but to die: As the fand ftreams to mark the fleeting hour, [doom, As the death's head reminds thee of thy As the fpade finks thy future grave-bed lower*, [thy tomb.

I too will learn to die, fad Pilgrim, at For, oh I whatever form I fee thee wear, If yet foft MERCY dwell within thy breaft,

Thyfelf fo fad, yet anxious to make bleft;

For others' woe if thou the figh wilt fpare; Tho' like the fage, that only liv'd to weep; Tho' all the load of human ills were thine;

For thee will I forego the balmy fleep, Or, wandering wild like thee, will make thy forrows mine.

BE

ODE

On the Birth-day of S. BENTLEY, May 9, 1800, who then completed his 78th Year †. Lumen oculorum meorum, non eft mecum. 3 ipfum E wrapt in praifes, O my foul! the Sun [day; Warms and illumes once more my natal An æra new with me is now begun ; [ray! Oh! may Heav'n blefs it with propitious My eyes, alas! no rays relume; yet still

In Heav'n I trust, await its awful nod!

Refign'd, ftill zealous to perform its will, Still tremble and adore, ftill thank my God!

Time was, (for Memory brings past scenes [eye,)

to view, And paints them clearly to the mental When each year's birth-day pleasures would

renew;

and lings;

[run;

And timid hare with nimble greyhounds Fous'd when the covey, clang'd in air

When Study cloy'd, I filed to find the drill! 'Twas difcipline fevere, yet did me good; Wrh circulation brifk my veins would till, Quite falutary then, like daily food. Fleas'd, I obey'd implicitly command,

To bad, prefent, to march or swift or flow;

With fortitude it made my breast expand, And military grace and spirit know. Hope forms the prayer, God grant it may prevail,

To Rein the tide of War's destructive ire! Grant us no more for flaughter'd troops to wal! [ber lyre. The Mufe fhall then enraptur'd wake

The Literary Fund.

T

Soon far and near the waves were spangled

vent;

But, when in tender fcenes he dropp'd the tear, [ment!

His tones were then enchanting ravishTime was, my Mufe one fprig of laurel gam'd; [fame : But now a wreath diffinguishes my The Literati's favour is obtained; They in the Poets' lift enroll'd my name! Pray God it be not vifionary! lo! Peace fmiles t, tho' diflant, gleaming mildly round!

We will, fhould the on us her boons bestow, Be both with olive and the laurel crown'd.

O Peace, what pencil can portray thy face!

Thy attributes beneficent combine, Thy placid mien, inimitab'e grace! Or give thy charms to glow iu rays di

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