in this world; secondly, in the world to come. The effects that it works in this world are, in some, M, murder,-in others, A, adultery,-in all, L, looseness of life, and in some, T, treason. The effects that it works in the world to come, are--M, misery,-A, anguish,-L, lamentation,-and T, torment. And so much for this time and text. "I shall improve this: First, by way of exhortation:-M, my masters,-A, all of you,-L, leave off, -T, tippling. Or, secondly, by way of commination, -M, my masters,-A, all of you,-L, look for,T, torment. Thirdly, by way of caution, take this :A drunkard is the annoyance of modesty, the bane of civility, the destroyer of reason, the brewer's agent, the innkeeper's benefactor, his wife's sorrow, his children's trouble, his own shame, his neighbour's scoff, a walking swill-bowl, the picture of a beast, and the monster of a man.' He then concluded in the usual form; and the young men, pleased with his ingenuity, not only sincerely thanked him, but absolutely profited more by this short and whimsical sermon than by any serious discourse they had ever heard. THE DEBTOR. Children of affluence! hear a poor man's prayer ! O haste, and free me from this dungeon's gloom! Let not the hand of comfortless Despair, Sink my grey hairs with sorrow to the tomb ! Unused Compassion's tribute to demand, With clamorous din wake Charity's dull ear, Wring the slow aid from Pity's loitering hand, Weave the feign'd tale, or drop the ready tear. Far different thoughts employ'd my early hours; To views of bliss, to scenes of affluence born, The hand of pleasure strew'd my path with flowers, And every blessing hail'd my youthful morn. But, ah, how quick the change! the morning gleam And sorrow closed the evening of my day. In evil hour, to specious arts a prey, I trusted (who from fault is ever free ?)And the short progress of one fatal day, Was all the space 'twixt wealth and poverty Where could I seek for comfort or for aid? Too late I found the wretched have no friend! E'en he, amid the rest-the favour'd youth Pity in vain stretch'd forth her feeble hand, Though deeply hurt, yet sway'd by decent pride, Nor blamed his cruelty, nor wished to hate And sank in silent anguish to the grave. Children of affluence! hear a poor man's prayer! O haste, and free me from this dungeon's gloom! Let not the hand of comfortless Despair Sink my grey hairs with sorrow to the tomb. GLENARA. O, heard ye yon pibroch sound sad in the gale, Glenara came first with the mourners and shroud; So spake the rude chieftain: no answer is made, "I dreamt of my lady, I dreamt of her shroud," Cried a voice from the kinsmen, all wrathful and loud; "And empty that shroud, and that coffin did seem: "Glenara! Glenara! now read me my dream." O, pale grew the cheek of that chieftain, I ween, When the shroud was unclosed, and no lady was seen; When a voice from the kinsmen spoke louder in scorn, 'Twas the youth who had loved the fair Ellen of Lorn "I dreamt of my lady, I dreamt of her grief, THE NEGRO'S COMPLAINT. (COWPER.) Forced from home and all its pleasures, To increase a stranger's treasures, Still in thought as free as ever, Dwells in white and black the same. Why did all-creating Nature Make this plant for which we toil? Hark! he answers :- wild tornadoes He, foreseeing what vexations Deem our nation brutes no longer, THE NEWCASTLE APOTHECARY. A man in many a country town we know, Professing openly with death to wrestle, Ent'ring the field against the foe, Arm'd with a mortar and a pestle. Yet some affirm no enemies they are, Though the Apothecary fights with Death, Still they're sworn friends to one another. A member of this Esculapian race |