Clergyman's

If some grave sire appears, amid the strife,
In morals strict, and innocence of life,
All stand attentive, while the sage controuls
Their wrath, and calms the tempest of their souls.
- Christopher Pitt

Now on a towering arch of waves we rise,
Heaved on the bounding billows, to the skies.
Then, as the roaring surge retreating fell,
We shoot down headlong to the depths of hell.
- Christopher Pitt

A mighty tree, that bears a golden bough.
- Christopher Pitt

To all, proportioned terms he must dispense,
And make the sound a picture of the sense.
- Christopher Pitt

Arms! arms! my friends, with speed my arms supply,
'Tis our last hour, and summons us to die;
My arms!—in vain you hold me,—let me go—
Give, give me back this moment to the foe.
'Tis well—we will not tamely perish all,
But die revenged, and triumph in our fall.
- Christopher Pitt