Our little lot denies; but Heaven decrees
To all the gift of minist'ring to ease;
The gentle offices of patient love,

Beyond all flatt'ry, and all praise above;
The mild forbearance of another's fault;

The taunting word suppress'd as soon as thought: On these Heaven bade the sweets of life depend, And crush'd ill-fortune when she gave a friend. Small slights, contempt, neglect, unmixt with hate, Make up in number what they want in weight: These, and a thousand griefs minute as these, Corrode our comforts, and destroy our peace.

INSCRIPTION FOR THE BLIND ASYLUM, LIVERPOOL.

STRANGER, pause; for thee the day
Smiling pours its cheerful ray,

Spreads the lawn and rears the bower,
Lights the stream and paints the flower..
Stranger, pause: with soften'd mind
Learn the sorrows of the blind:
Earth, and seas, and varying skies,
Visit not their cheerless eyes.

Not for them the joy to trace
The chissel's animating grace;
Nor on the glowing canvas find
The poet's soul, the sage's mind.

Not for them the heart is seen
Speaking through th' expressive mien ;
Nor for them are pictur'd there
Friendship, pity, love sincere.

Helpless, as they slowly stray,
Childhood points their cheerless way;
Or the wand exploring guides
Falt'ring steps, where fear presides.

Yet for them has genius kind
Humble pleasure here design'd;
Here, with unexpected ray,
Reach'd the soul that felt no day.

Lonely blindness here can meet
Kindred woes, and converse sweet;
Torpid once, can learn to smile
Proudly o'er its useful toil.

He, who deign'd for us to die,
Op'd on day the darken'd eye:
Humbly copy-thou canst feel;
Give thine alms-thou canst not heal.

THE BEGGAR'S PETITION.

PITY the sorrows of a poor old man,

Whose trembling limbs have borne him to your door,

Whose days are dwindled to the shortest span;
Oh! give relief, and Heaven will bless your store.
These tatter'd clothes my poverty bespeak,
These hoary locks proclaim my lengthen'd years;
And many a furrow in my grief-worn cheek,
Has been the channel to a stream of tears.

Yon house, erected on the rising ground,
With tempting aspect, drew me from my road;
For Plenty there a residence has found,
And Grandeur a magnificent abode.

(Hard is the fate of the infirm and poor!)

Here as I crav'd a morsel of their bread,
A pamper❜d menial drove me from the door,
To seek a shelter in an humbler shed.

Oh! take me to your hospitable dome,
Keen blows the wind and piercing is the cold!
Short is my passage to the friendly tomb,
For I am poor and miserably old.

Should I reveal the sources of my grief,

If soft humanity e'er touch'd your breast, Your hands would not withhold the kind relief, And tears of pity would not be repress'd.

Heaven sends misfortunes-why should we repine!
"Tis Heav'n has brought me to the state you see;
And your condition may be soon like mine,
The child of sorrow and of misery.

A little farm was my paternal lot,

Then like the lark I sprightly hail'd the morn, But ah! oppression forc'd me from my cot, My cattle died, and blighted was my corn. My daughter-once the comfort of my age! Lur'd by a villain from her native home, Is cast abandon'd on the world's wide stage, And doom'd in scanty poverty to roam. My tender wife,-sweet soother of my care! Struck with sad anguish at the stern decree, Fell,-ling'ring fell, a victim to despair,

And left the world to wretchedness and me.

Pity the sorrows of a poor old man,

Whose trembling limbs have borne him to your door,

Whose days are dwindled to the shortest span; Oh! give relief, and Heaven will bless your store.

VERSES

Written on a blank leaf of Cowper's Poems, presented to a Lady on her marriage.

Rev. Archdeacon J. Jebb.

LADY, were Cowper's spirit here,

That sainted spirit sure would breathe

A fervent wish, a vow sincere,

And twine them with thy bridal wreath,

He would not of thy goodness tell,
For purest virtue courts the shade;
He would not on thy features dwell,
For beauty's short-lived flower must fade.

No, lady!-Cease thy modest fears;
More pleased his artless Muse would feel
To consecrate the filial tears,

Which from thy trembling eye-lids steal:

To cherish, on this joyful day,

The glist'ning tribute of thy heart, For years of mild paternal sway,

For cares that made thee-what thou art.

Then would he pray-that white-robed truth, And purest peace and joy serene, (Blest guardians of thy vernal youth)

May shield thee thro' life's various scene,

But Cowper lives in realms of light,
Where kindred seraphs ceaseless sing;
Far other hands this wreath unite!
Far other hands this off'ring bring!

Yet, lady, wilt thou kindly deign,
('Tis all th' unpractis'd Muse can give)
Accept this rudely-warbled strain,
And let it, bound with Cowper's, live.

These volumes, too, I fondly ween,
May, for their author's sake, be priz'd,
When thine own hearth shall match the scene
By Weston's bard immortaliz❜d.

For, sure, thou lov'st domestic joys,
And hours of intimate delight:

And days retir'd from vulgar noise,

And converse bland, that cheats the night.

Such joys be thine, be his! and still
In heart united, as in hands,
Blessing and blest, may each fulfil

The glorious task your place demands.
Lights of the world, may each dispense
New lustre through your ample sphere;
And very late be summon'd hence
To shine thro' Heaven's eternal year.

LINES

Written when going abroad for recovery of health. J. Bowdler, Jun.

TRANQUIL and blest my years have flow'd,

By no rude fortune tried;

For life was young, and Hope bestow'd
What wiser Heaven denied.

Then shall I shrink or murmur now,
If pain and sickness chill my brow,
And praise the gracious GOD no more,
Who gave me health and joy before?
Though gloomy Winter in his train
Lead Darkness, Want, and Fear,
Wilt thou Almighty Love arraign,
And mourn the ruin'd year?
See, see, the vernal fountains flow,
And Summer bends his golden bow,
"Till Autumn's mother lap be crown'd,
And Mirth and Plenty dance around.

Then let the low'ring storm increase,
Around the darkness roll,

Some wand'ring gleam of joy and peace.
Shall reach my fainting soul:

'Mid the deep shade, the roaring wind
Shall speak of brighter heavens behind,
And bid me through the veil survey
The chambers of eternal day.