Lamented Chief! at thy distinguish’d deeds
  The world shall gaze with wonder and applause,
While, on fair hist’ry’s page, the patriot reads
  Thy matchless valor in thy country’s cause.

Yes, it was thine amid destructive war,
  To shield it nobly from oppression’s chain;
By justice arm’d, to brave each threat’ning jar,
  Assert its freedom, and its rights maintain.

Much-honor’d Statesman, Husband, Father, Friend,
  A generous nation’s grateful tears are thine;
E’en unborn ages shall thy worth commend,
  And never-fading laurels deck thy shrine.

Illustrious Warrior! on the immortal base,
  By Freedom rear’d, thy envied name shall stand;
And Fame, by Truth inspir’d, shall fondly trace
  Thee, Pride and Guardian of thy Native Land!

SONG.

Oh! never will I leave my love,
  My captive soul would sigh to stray,
Tho’ seraph-songs its truth to prove,
  Call it from earth to heaven to away.

For heaven has deign’d on earth to send
  As rich a gift as it can give;
Alas! that mortal bliss must end,
  For mortal man must cease to live.

Yet transient would my sorrows be
  Should Delia first her breath resign;
Sweet Maid! my soul would follow thee,
  For never can it part from thine.

BURLESQUE SONNET.

TO A BEE.

Sweet Insect! that on two small wings doth fly,
  And, flying, carry on those wings yourself;
Methinks I see you, looking from your eye,
  As tho’ you thought the world a wicked elf. 
Offspring of summer! brimstone is thy foe;
  And when it kills ye, soon you lose your breath: 
They rob your honey; but don’t let you go,
  Thou harmless victim of ambitious death! 
How sweet is honey! coming from the Bee;
  Sweeter than sugar, in the lump or not: 
And, as we get this honey all from thee,
  Child of the hive! thou shalt not be forgot. 
So when I catch, I’ll take thee home with me,
And thou shall be my friend, oh!  Bee!  Bee!  Bee!

MARY.

How oft have I seen her upon the sea-shore,
  While tearful, her face, she would hide,
In sad silence the loss of the Sailor deplore
  Who from infancy call’d her his bride,

The Sailor she lov’d was a Fisherman’s son,
  All dangers he triumph’d to meet;
Well repaid, if a smile from his Mary he won,
  As he proffer’d his spoils at her feet.

But soon from her smiles was he summon’d away,
  His fortunes at sea to pursue: 
And grav’d on their hearts was the sorrowful day
  That witness’d their final adieu.

They spoke not, ah, no; for they felt their hearts speak
  A language their tongues could not tell;
As he kiss’d off the tears that fell fast on her cheek,
  As she sigh’d on his bosom, farewel.