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Hast thou the Gospel rightly prized,
Their folly, noise, and riot leave behind,
Do thou enlighten and expand my mind. What worlds on worlds unnumber'd round me roll Their glorious orbs, and speak their Maker's
praise : How great, magnificent, sublime the whole !
Then in my breast devotion's altar raise. Bring with thee Charity, sweet dove-ey'd maid !
And Pity, weeping at another's pain;
So shall my heart the heaving sigh restrain.
Forsaken by the proud, the rich, the gay: Tho' low my state, I can afford a sigh;
Tho' poor, to misery I've a tear to pay. Be it my pride within my humble sphere
To lend to drooping age the aiding hand ! To wipe from Misery's eye the gushing tear,
Nor e'er the still small voice of Grief withstand.
Oh, blest sensations ! balm to feeling minds !
To comfort and to soothe the couch of woe, The lux’ries which the good man ever finds,
Be they my lot, let them my heart o'erflow. Thus by thy aid my days shall glide away,
Nor riches, fame, nor honours do I crave; Cheer'd by thy smile, I'll chaunt my pensive lay,
And steal, contented, to my humble grave.
The morning flowers display their sweets,
And gay their silken leaves unfold,
And fearless of the evening's cold.
Parch'd by the sun's directer ray,
The short-liv'd beauties die away.
When youth its pride of beauty shows;
And sweeter than the new-blown rose.
Or broke by sickness in a day,
The short-lived beauties die away.
With lustre brighter far shall shine;
Safe from diseases and decline.
So heaven but recompense our pains ;
If firm the word of God remains,
Know God, and bring thy heart to know
ON THE DEATH OF A LADY.Beattie. Still shall unthinking man substantial deem The forms that fleet through life's deceitful dream? On clouds, where Fancy's beam amusive plays, Shall heedless Hope his towering fabric raise? ”Till at Death's touch th’ ideal glories fly, And real scenes rush dismal on the eye? O ye, whose hours in jocund train advance, Whose spirits to the song of gladness dance; O yet, while Fate delays th' impending woe, Be rous'd to thought, anticipate the blow; Lest, like the lightning's glance, the sudden ill Flash to confound, and penetrate to kill : Lest, thus encompass'd with funereal gloom, Like me, ye bend o'er some untimely tomb,
Pour your wild ravings in Night's frighted ear,
head! All quench'd the eye, the pitying tear that shed ! All mute the voice, whose pleasing accents stole, Infusing balm into the rankled soul! O Death, why arm with cruelty thy power, Why spare the weed, yet crop the lovely flower ! Why fly thy shafts in lawless error driven ! Is Virtue then no more the care of Heaven? But peace, bold thought! be still, my bursting
heart! We, not Eliza, felt the fatal dart. 'Scaped the dark dungeon does the slave complain, Nor bless the hand that broke the galling chain? O happy stroke, that bursts the bonds of clay, Darts through the rending gloom the blaze of day, And wings the soul with boundless flight to soar, Where dangers threat, and fears alarm no more.
ON THE PLEASURE ARISING FROM
VICISSITUDE.-Gray. Now the golden Morn aloft Waves her dew-bespangled wing, With vermeil cheek and whisper soft, She woos the tardy spring ; 'Till April starts, and calls around The sleeping fragrance from the ground,
, And lightly o'er the living scene Scatters his freshest, tenderest green. New-born flocks, in rustic dance, Frisking ply their feeble feet; Forgetful of their wintry trance, The birds his presence greet; But chief, the sky-lark warbles high His trembling thrilling ecstasy ; And, lessening from the dazzled sight, Melts into air and liquid light. Yesterday, the sullen year Saw the snowy whirlwind fly; Mute was the music of the air, The herd stood drooping by; Their raptures now that wildly flow, No yesterday nor morrow know; 'Tis man alone that joy descries With forward and reverted eyes. Smiles on past Misfortune's brow Soft Reflection's hand can trace,