The Crickets heard, with great surprise, Their comrade's voice tremendous rise: So young and old came peeping out, And saw him wildly frisk about; Admir'd the monstrous leaps he made, And one and all pronounc'd him mad. The lovely bird, devoid of pride, With placid air unmov'd, reply'd; "Poor silly, self-conceited thing! Like me thou canst not look, nor sing. Know, fool, all who from nature stray, Resolv'd to shine a different way, Attempt to force what she denies, And spite of her, be fair or wise; Her counsel with disdain reject, And, what she never meant, affect, Ne'er fail to make themselves a jest: TO FOLLOW NATURE's always best. Folly were rare, did SHE but rule: 'Tis affectation makes the fool. The lowest creatures ever seen, Though poor in parts, in person mean, If close they follow Nature's rule, Are ne'er despis'd, except by fools. Then, prithee, poor conceited elf, Retire and learn to know thyself; Contented rest with Nature's will, And be a shrieking Cricket still.”

A THOUGHT ON THE SEA SHORE.

IN ev'ry object here I see

Something, O LORD, that leads to thee.
Firm as the rocks thy promise stands,
Thy mercies countless as the sands,
Thy grace an ever-flowing tide,
Thy love a sea immensely wide.

THE TWO DIAMONDS.

A CURIOUS cab'net open flew,
And gave its treasures to my view.
Here butterflies, a beauteous band,
The plumage of their wings expand;
Here shells were rang'd in ample store,
Ransack'd from every sea and shore.
A cell, distinguish'd from the rest,
Two Diamonds, of great worth possest;
One cut with care, and polish'd fine;
The other, rough from nature's mine.
The unwrought stone, in language clear,
Thus seem'd to say in fancy's ear:
Ah! sister gem, amaz'd I see

The difference now 'tween you and me:
Time was, when far remov'd from day,
Deep in Golconda's mine we lay,
In equal rudeness, side by side,
Unknown to fame, unseen by pride:

But now, and truth must own it due,
All admiration falls on you.

While you, in ev'ry change of light,
Refulgent flash upon the sight;

What eye but joys to meet your rays!
What tongue but wantons in your praise!
The polish'd Diamond, void of pride,
In modest accents thus reply'd;
The bright perfections which you see,
Are native both to you and me:
Nature to both alike was kind,

And both for equal ends design'd.

But know, though nature forms with ease,
'Tis art must give the power to please.
The artist, with assiduous care,
Proportion'd fine, and polish'd fair,
Call'd iuto life each brilliant hue,
And wak'd the lightening that you view.
But Oh! had chance withheld her skill,
I had remain'd unnotic'd still.

The time may come when you shall shine
With lustre far surpassing mine.

My lovely Friend! you here may find An emblem of the human mind. Uneducated Nature's child

Is ignorant, and rude, and wild :

To reason's pow'r has small pretence;
Ideas few, but those of sense.

BUT EDUCATION! heavenly art!
Does every needful aid impart;
And, with a gentle pow'r controul
Each wayward passion of the soul;
It gives the virtues, gives their grace,
Adds beauties to the fairest face:
It gives a thousand charms to shine,
And makes the human soul divine.

THE WISH.

GIVE me, kind Heaven, the middle state,
Not meanly poor, nor proudly great!
I ask not wealth; no pow'r I crave;
Let me not have, nor be a slave,
The duty I to others owe,

Teach thou my erring heart to know.

Yet let me never anxious be

For duty others owe to me;

But think, ere I too much expect,
What higher duties I neglect.
Less let me others' errors mind,
Than those within myself I find;
Averse to make their foibles known,
As careful to conceal my own:
And, lest I do another wrong,
Restrain the licence of my tongue.
The ills, as mortal I must share,
Make me, without repining, bear.

Convinc'd the sinful cause is mine,
The merciful chastisement thine.
On every fellow-creature's woe
Let me a ready tear bestow :
Nor be so much of want afraid,
As not to give my little aid,
When poverty, with trembling hand,
Makes, in thy name, its meek demand:
When innocence gives laughter birth,
Let me not check the harmless mirth;
Yet speed the voice that kindly cries-
'Mortals, be MERRY and be WISE!'
O, gracious Heaven, these blessings give-
I care not where, but How I live!

THE CHURCH YARD.

FROM scenes of folly, mirth of fools,
Ye idle here repair,

Where wisdom, yet untaught in schools,
Embalms this calmer air.

Here pride has struck her lofty sail,

That rov'd the world around: Here roseate beauty, cold and pale,

Has lost the pow'r to wound.