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champions, long before the late important parliamentary measure was carried in their behalf, become '

still more cogent for the present and future protection of Protestants against either the overt, or the secret attacks of the Romish faith; that : at least the Church established in England still remains free and uncontrolled in the discharge of her sacred obligations not less to maintain the integrity of her Christian commission against every assault either of infidel or papal apostacy at home, than to carry to the heathen in foreign lands the glad tidings of the Gospel unimpaired; that her fundamental principles can admit of no compromise like what infidelity might seem to suggest in favour of Popery, where the defenders of Protestantism are either feeble, vacillating, or insincere: and finally, that an expected collision between the legions of darkness, and the growing phalanx of philosophic splendour, must not be abandoned to its dreadful consequences; while the reformed Protestant Church of England either, losing sight of her late discomfiture in the sister kingdom, allows her Christian vigilance and labour of love to degenerate into a flattering confidence in her own actual strength, or, placing an unsafe reliance in any future accession of power from the mutual broils of her opponents, assumes the posture of a reckless arbitration, and shuts with indifference the woful records of the past.

Such, my Lord, are the sentiments to which I have preu med to attach the sanction of your authority: joined with the considerations that precede them, they prevailed on me to dedicate “ The Boor” to your Grace; and that the evening of your days may be gladdened by the soul-cheering retrospect of having endeavoured, through a well spent and honourable life, to promote the glory of God, and the good of

your fellow creatures, is the heartfelt wish and prayer of,

my Lord,

Your Grace's faithful

And most obedient Servant,

JOHN HILL.

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While, gloom-defying, o'er the vale rose crowned

A shaggy mount, from darkness sheltering light, The sun's refracted rays still gleaming round,

Through blackening clouds forestalling hastening night, A Boor, contented, traced his lonely way, To where his cot spoke last and earliest day.

II.

In devious glee his latent bosom shone,

Like mist-stolen radiance from the coming morn; The rill and breeze had hushed the lark's gay tone,

But echo rose responsive, though in scorn : With him she whistled, laughed, and jeering sung, Till double satire glowed upon her tongue.

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III.

To neighbouring woods, and halls, and listening lords,

She tells the Boor's closed day, his homeward mind, The joy that honest industry affords;

Impartial Nature's gifts to all mankind; Does man's real wants proclaim to be but few; His wealth and splendour like the morning dew.

IV.

Lo, distant thunder ends the slighted theme !

The slumbering lake now shines along the dale ; Twice crows the warning cock from night's first dream;

The mountain forests labour in the gale ;
Through rending heaven fierce spirits rush to battle,
In lightning clash, and shout in thunder's rattle.

V.

The calm succeeding, headlong torrents broke :

Vast tumbling rocks and dashing trees swept down ; And in their boiling, plunging course, loud spoke

Portentous deeds, through Nature's lurid frown: Yet fairer than what strew the cherished dead, Manuring laurels for the guilty head.

VI.

Beneath an oak, whose slanting form did bend

The girth of prime, to airs of early lot,
Our Boor had shelter found, and strove to lend

The ruthless storm some comfort from his cot:
Where mentally he sat, and talked, and smiled ;
Beheld his busy wife, or taught his child.

VII.

Returning silence woke him from his dream :

Our dreams paint more the past than what's to come. Again he seeks the tract and rising stream;

And while around him every thing is dumb, Save where the torrent falls, or floods the vale, He muses inwardly-Hope tells her tale.

VIII.

The mind creative courts the silent hour;

Prospective good grows sweeter in the shade;
The star of promise brightens in the lour

Of adverse skies; and hopes, in ruins laid,
Revive, by deeper misery made bright:
They steal their lustre from the gloom of night.

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