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And that which he delights in must be happy.
But when or where ? this world was made for Cæsar :
I'm weary of conjectures—this must end them.

Thus am I doubly arm’d-my death and life,
My bane and antidote, are both before me.
This in a moment brings me to an end;
But this informs me I sball never die.
The soul secur'd in her existence, smiles
At the drawn dagger, and defies its point.
The stars shall fade away, the sun himself
Grow dim with age, and nature sink in years;
But thou shalt flourish in immortal youth,

among the war of elements,
The wreck of matter, and the crush of worlds.

The Lord my pasture shall prepare,
And feed me with a shepherd's care:
His presence shall my wants supply,
And guard me with a watchful eye;
My noon-day walks he shall attend,
And all my mid-night hours defend.
When in the sultry glebe I faint,
Or on the thirsty mountains pant
To fertile vale, and dewy meads,
My weary, wandering steps he leads;
Where peaceful rivers, soft and slow,
Amid the verdant landscape flow.
Though in the paths of death I tread,
With gloomy horrors overspread,
My steadfast heart shall fear no ill,
For thou, O Lord, art with me still ;
Thy friendly crook shall give me aid,
And guide me through the dreadful shade.
Though in a bare and rugged way,
Through devious lonely wilds I stray,
Thy bounty shall my pains beguile :
The barren wilderness shall smile,
With sudden greens and herbage crown'd,
And streams shall murmur all around.


The spacious firmament on high,
With all the blue ethereal sky,
And spangled heavens, and shining frame,
Their great Original proclaim :
The unwearied sun, from day to day,
Does his Creator's power display,
And publishes to every land
The work of an Almighty hand.
Soon as the evening shades prevail,
The moon takes up the wondrous tale,
And nightly to the listening earth
Repeats the story of her birth :
Whilst all the stars that round her hurn.
And all the planets, in their turn,
Confirm the tidings as they roll,
And spread the truth from pole to pole.
What though, in solemn silence all
Move round the dark terrestrial ball!
What though nor real voice nor sound
Amid their radiant orbs he found !
In reason’s ear they all rejoice,
And utter forth a glorious voice,
For ever singing, as they shine,
“ The hand that made us is divine."


EVIL UNAVOIDABLE. Had guile, and pride, and envy grown In the black groves of Styx alone, Nor ever had on earth the fatal crop been sowo: The swain, without amaze, had tilled The Flandrian glebe, a guiltless field: Nor had he wondered, when he found The bones of heroes in the ground: No crimson streams had lately swelled The Dyle, the Danube, and the Scheldt. But evils are of necessary growth, To rouse the brave and banish sioth;



And some are born to win the stars,
By sweat and blood and worthy scars ;
Heroic virtue is by action seen,
And vices serve to make it keen;
And, as gigantic tyrants rise,
Nassaus and Churchills leave the skies,
The earth-born monsters to chastise.

Ye gods ! whạt crime bad my poor father done,

should make a poet of his son ? Or is 't for some great services of his, You're pleased to compliment his boy with this?

[showing a laurel crown. The honour, I must needs confess, is great, If, with his crown, you tell him where to eat: 'Tis well,—But I have more complaints ! look here !

[showing his ragged coat, Hark ye: d'ye think this suit good winter wear? In a cold morning, when, at a lord's gate, How have you let the porter let me wait! You'll say, perhaps, you knew I'd get no harm; You'd given me fire enough to keep me warm. Ah! A world of blessings to that fire we owe ; Without it I'd ne'er make this princely show. I have a brother too, now in my sight, A busy man amongst us here to-night; Your fire has made him play a thousand pranks, For which no doubt you've had his daily thanks. He's thanked you first for all his decent plays, Where he so nicked it, when he writ for praise. Next for his meddling with some folks in black, And bringing, souse, a priest upon his back; For building houses here to oblige the peers, And fetching all their house about his ears ; For a new play he's now thought fit to write To soothe the town-which they will--damn to-night. These benefits are such, no man can doubt But he'll go on, and see your fancy out ;


Till for reward of all his wondrous deeds,
At last like other spritely folks he speeds;
Has this great recompense fixed on his brow
At famed Parnassus : has your leave to bow
And walk about the streets, equipped-as I am now,



TO MISS A.K.NS. Dear thoughtless Clara, to my verse attend, Believe for once thy lover and thy friend; Heaven to each sex has various gifts assigned And shewn an equal care of human kind. Strength does to man's imperial race belong; To yours that beauty which subdues the strong; But, as our strength when misapplied is lost, And what should save, urges our ruin most, Women no more their empire can maintain, Nor hope, vile slaves of lust, by love to reign. Superior charms but make their case the worse, And what should be their blessing, proves their curse. No, Clara, no ! that person and that mind Were formed by nature and by heaven designed For nobler ends; to these return, though late, Return to these, and so avert thy fate. Think, Clara, think, (nor will that thought be vain) Thy slave, thy Harry, doomed to drag his chain Of love, ill-treated and abused, that he From more inglorious chains may rescue thee. Thy drooping health restored, by his fond care, Once more thy beauty its full lustre wear ; Moved by his love, by his example taught, Soon shall thy soul, once more with virtue fraught, With kind and generous truth thy bosom warm, And thy fair mind, like thy fair person, charm. To virtue thus, and to thyself restored, By all admired, by one alone adored, Be to thy Harry ever kind and true, And live for him, who more than dies for you.


The wise and active conquer difficulties
By daring to attempt them : sloth and folly
Shiver and shrink at sight of toil and hazard,
And make th' impossibility they fear.

Great minds, like Heaven, are pleased with doing good,
Though the ungrateful subjects of their favours
Are barren in return. Virtue does still
With scorn the mercenary world regard,
Where abject souls do good, and hope reward :
Above the worthless trophies men can raise,
She seeks not honours, wealth, nor airy praise,
But with herself herself the goddess pays.


Let dogs delight to bark and bite,

For God hath made them so;
Let bears and lions growl and fight,

For 'tis their nature too;
But, children, you should never let

Such angry passions rise ;
Your little hands were never made

To tear each other's eyes.
Let love through all your actions run,

And all your words be mild ;
Live like the blessed virgin's son,

That sweet and lovely child.
His soul was gentle as a lamb;

And as his stature grew,
He grew

in favour both with man
And God his father too.
Now, Lord of all he reigns above,

And from his heavenly throne
He sees what children dwell in love,

And marks them for his own.

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