Since such are the joys that Simplicity yields,

We may well be content with our woods and our fields: How useless to us then, ye great, were your wealth, When without it we purchase both pleasure and health!

MORE.

SECTION XXX.

Care and generosity.

OLD Care, with industry and art,
At length so well had play'd his part,
He heap'd up such an ample store,
That av'rice could not sigh for more.
Ten thousand flocks his shepherds told;
His coffers overflow'd with gold;
The land all round him was his own;
With corn his crowded gran'ries groan.
In short, so vast his charge and gain,
That to possess them was a pain :
With happiness oppress'd he lies,
And much too prudent to be wise.
Near him there liv'd a beauteous maid,
With all the charms of youth array'd;

Good, amiable, sincere, and free ;
Her name was Generosity.

'Twas her's the largess to bestow,
On rich and poor, on friend and foe.
Her doors to all were open'd wide;
The pilgrim there might safe abide.

For th' hungry and the thirsty crew,

The bread she broke, the drink she drew.

There sickness laid her aching head,

And there distress could find a bed.
Each hour, with an all-bounteous hand,
Diffus'd the blessings round the land.
Her gifts and glory lasted long,

And num'rous was th' accepting throng.
At length pale penury seiz'd the dame,
And fortune fled, and ruin came;

She found her riches at an end,

And that she had not made one friend.
All blam'd her for not giving more,
Nor thought on what she'd done before.
She wept, she rav'd, she tore her hair,
When lo! to comfort her, came Care;
And cried: "My dear, if you will join
Your hand in nuptial bonds with mine,
All will be well; you shall have store,
And I be plagu'd with wealth no more.
Though I restrain your bounteous heart,
You still shall act the gen'rous part."-
The bridal came, great was the feast,

And good the pudding and the priest.
The bride in nine moons brought him forth

A little maid of matchless worth:

Her face was mix'd with care and glee;

And she was nam'd Economy.

They styl❜d her fair Discretion's queen,

The mistress of the golden mean.

Now Generosity confin'd,

Perfectly easy in her mind,

Still loves to give, yet knows to spare,

Nor wishes to be free from Care.

SMART.

SECTION XXXI.

The slave.

WIDE o'er the tremulous sea,

The moon spread her mantle of light;
And the gale gently dying away,
Breath'd soft on the bosom of night.

On the forecastle Maratan stood,

And pour'd forth his sorrowful tale:
His tears fell unseen in the flood;

His sighs pass'd unheard in the gale.
"Ah wretch!" in wild anguish, he cried,
"From country and liberty torn!
Ah, Maratan, would thou hadst died,

Ere o'er the salt waves thou wert borne!

4 Through the groves of Angola I stray'd,

Love and hope made my bosom their home;
There I talk'd with my favourite maid,
Nor dreamt of the sorrow to come.

From the thicket the man-hunter sprung,
My cries echoed loud through the air:
There were fury and wrath on his tongue;
He was deaf to the voice of despair.

M

Flow, ye tears, down my cheeks ever flow;

Still let sleep from my eyelids depart:
And still may the arrows of wo,

Drink deep of the stream of my

But hark! o'er the silence of night,

My Adila's accents I hear;

heart.

And mournful, beneath the wan light,
I see her lov'd image appear.

Slow o'er the smooth ocean she glides,

As the mist that hangs light on the wave;
And fondly her partner she chides,
Who lingers so long from his grave.

Oh, Maratan! haste thee,' she cries,
Here the reign of oppression is o'er ;

The tyrant is robb'd of his prize,

And Adila sorrows no more.'

Now sinking amidst the dim ray,
Her form seems to fade on my view:
O! stay thee, my Adila, stay!—

She beckons, and I must pursue.

To-morrow, the white man, in vain,
Shall proudly account me his slave;
My shackles I plunge in the main,

And rush to the realms of the brave!" *

* It may not be improper to remind the young reader, that the anguish of the unhappy negroes, on being separated for ever from their country and dearest connexions, with the dreadful prospect of perpetual slavery, frequently becomes so exquisite, as to produce derangement of mind, and suicide.

SECTION XXXII.

The swallows:

ERE yellow autumn from our plains retir'd,
And gave to wint'ry storms the varied year,
The swallow race, with foresight clear inspir'd,
To southern climes prepar'd their course to steer.

On Damon's roof a grave assembly sat;
His roof a refuge to the feather'd kind:
With serious look he mark'd the nice debate,
And to his Delia thus address'd his mind.

Observe yon twitt'ring flock, my gentle maid; Observe, and read the wond'rous ways of Heav'n ! With us, through summer's genial reign they stay'd, And food and lodging to their wants were giv'n.

But now, through sacred prescience, well they know The near approach of elemental strife ;

The blust'ring tempest, and the chilly snow,

With ev'ry want and scourge of tender life.

Thus taught, they meditate a speedy flight;
For this, e'en now, they prune their vig'rous wing;
For this, consult, advise, prepare, excite;

And prove their strength, in many an airy ring.