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Woven with pains into his plan,

To-morrow rends away.
The bow well bent, and smart the spring,

Vice seems already slain;
But passion rudely snaps the string,

And it revives again.
Some foe to his upright intent

Finds out his weaker part;
Virtue engages his assent,

But Pleasure wins his heart.
'Tis here the folly of the wise

Through all his art we view;
And, while his tongue the charge denies,

His conscience owns it true,
Bound on a voyage of awful length

And dangers little known,
A stranger to superior strength.

Man vainly trusts his own,
But oars alone can ne'er prevail,

To reach the distant coast!
The breath of Heav'n must swell the sail,

Or all the toil is lost.

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A RECEIPT FOR HAPPINESS.
Traverse the world, go fly from pole to pole,
Go far as winds can blow or waters roll,
All, all is vanity, beneath the sun,
To certain death throgh diff'rent paths we run.
See the pale miser poring o'er his gold;
Sze there a galley-slavo to misery sold!
Ambitiou's vot’ries groan beneath its weight,

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The splendid victim of the toils of state.
Lo! in the mantling bowl sweet poisons flow;
Love's softest pleasures terminate in woe:
Even learning ends her vast career in doubt,
And puzzling on makes nothing clearly out:
Where then is sov'reign bliss ? Where doth it grow
Know, mortal! happiness ne'er dwelt below.
Look towards Heav'n, be Heav'n thy only care;
Spurn the vile earth-go seek thy treasure there;
A virtuous course, and Heav'n alone you'll find,
Can fill a boundless and immortal mind.

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MONTHLY MAGAZINE.

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HYMN.
Mutability of the Creation ; immutability of God.

GREAT Former of this various frame!
Our souls adore thine awful name!
And bow and tremble, while they praise
The Ancient of eternal days.
Thon, Lord, with unsurpris'd survey,
Saw'st nature rising yesterday ;
And, as to-morrow, shall thine eye
See earth aud stars in ruin lie.
Beyond an angel's vision bright,
Thou dwell'st in self-existent light,
Which shines, with undiminish'd ray,
While suns and worlds in smoke decay.
Our days a transient period run,
And change with ev'ry circling sun;
And, in the firmest state we boast,
A moth can crush us into dust.
But, let the creatures fall around,
Let death consign us to the ground,

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Virtue for ever frail as fair below,
Her tender nature suffers in the crowd,
Nor touches on the world without a stain:
The world's infectious; few bring back at ere
Immaculate the manners of the morn,
Something we thought, is blotted; we resolv'd,
Is shaken; we renounc'd, returns again.
Each salutation may slide in a sin
Unthought before, or fix a former flaw.
Nor is it strange light, motion, concourse, noise

,
All scatter us abroad; thought outward bound,
Neglectful of our home affairs, flies off
In fume and dissipation, quits her charge,
And leaves the breast unguarded to the foe.

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YOUNG,

CHRIST'S PREDICTION FULFILLED.
On us and on our children be his blood!"-
Such was your imprecation, Oye Jews,
When in your sight the world's Redeemer stood
Gash'd o'er with wounds, and emptying ev'ry vein,
For man’s redemption ; and behold! it flows,
It whelms upon you in a flood-gate tide ;
Steep'd to the lips ye are in all the blood
Of all the righteous shed upon the earth,

W SE W A H SE SE

ITION

From blood of righteous Abel to the blood
Of Zechariah, whom your fathers ston'd
Betwixt the altar and the house of God.
Ye have enough; the mark is on your race;
Ye have drawn down the judgment ye provok'd,
It rests upon you : Yet for you no rest,
No station, no abiding-place is found,
Strangers and weary wand'rers upon earth,
If in the dust of

your

Jerusalem
With foot proscrib'd ye dare to tread, ye die;
A

savage race usurps your sacred mount,
And Jordan echoes an unhallow'd name;
Should ye but stop to shed a filial tear
Upon the soil where your forefathers sleep,
Woe to the circumcis'd that so is found !
Oh ! slow of heart, when will ye understand,
That thus afflicted, scatter'd, and dispers’d
Through every clime and kingdom of the world
Ye are sent forth to publish, as ye pass,
How truly Christ predicted of your fate;
And though your lips deny, your sufforings prove
That prophet Jesus, whom your fathers slew,
Was Saviour, Christ, Messias, Son of God.

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CUMBERLAND.

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Well may sleep present us fictions,
Since our waking moments teem
With such fanciful convictions
As make life itself a dream.-
Half our daylight faith 's a fable :
Sleep disports with shadows too,
Seeming in their turn as stable
As the world we wake to view.

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Ne'er by day did Reason's mint
Give my thoughts a clearer print
Of assur'd reality,
Than was left by Phantasy
Stamp'd and colour'd on my sprite
In a dream of yesternight.
In a bark, methought, lone steering,
I was cast on Ocean's strife,
This, 'twas whisper'd in my hearing,
Meant the sea of life.
Sad regrets from past existence
Came, like gales of chilling breath;
Shadow'd in the forward distance
Lay the land of death.
Now seeming more, now less remote,
On that dim-seen shore, methought,
I beheld two hands a-pace
Slow unshroud a spectre's face ;
And my flesh's hair upstood,
'Twas mine own similitude.
But my soul reviv'd at seeing
Ocean, like an emerald spark,
Kindle, while an air-dropt being,
Smiling, steer'd my bark.
Heaven-like-yet he look'd as human
As supernal beauty can,
More compassionate than woman,
Lordly more than man.
And as some sweet clarion's breath
Stirs the soldier's scorn of death,
So his accents bade me brook
The spectre's eyes of icy look,
Till it shut them-turn'd its head,
Like a beaten foe, and fed.

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