LIOT

Unfit in these degenerate times of shame,
To catch the heart, or strike for honest fame;
Dear charming nymph, neglected and decried,
My shame in crowds, my solitary pride;
Thou source of all my bliss and all my woe,
That foundst me poor at first, and keep'st me so;
Thou guide, by which the nobler arts excel,
Thou nurse of every virtue, fare thee well;
Farewell! and O! where'er thy voice be tried,
On Torno's cliffs, or Pambamarca's side,
Whether where equinoctial fervours glow,
Or winter wraps the polar world in snow,
Still let thy voice, prevailing over time,
Redress the rigours of the’ inclement clime;
Aid slighted Truth, with thy persuasive train;
Teach erring man to spurn

the

rage Teach him, that states of native strength possess'd, Though very poor, may still be very bless'd; That trade's proud empire hastes to swift decay, As ocean sweeps the labour’d mole away; While self-dependent power can time defy, As rocks resist the billows and the sky.

of gain;

THE

HERMIT.

A ballad.

FIRST PRINTED IN THE YEAR, 1765.

TO

The Printer of the St. James's Chronicle.

JUNE, 1767.

SIR,

As there is nothing I dislike so much as newspaper controversy, particularly upon trifles, permit me to be as concise as possible in informing a correspondent of yours, that I recommended Blainville's Travels, because I thought the book was a good one; and I think so still. I said, I was told by the bookseller that it was then first published; but in that, it seems, I was misinformed, and my reading was not extensive enough to set me right.

Another correspondent of yours accuses me of having taken a ballad, I published some time ago, from one by the ingenious Mr. Percy. I do not think there is any great resemblance be