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Yet lovelier, in my view,

And wand'ring thro' the depths of mental The streamlet flowing, silently serene;

night, Traced by the brighter hue,

Sought dark predictions 'mid the worlds of And livelier growth it gives ;-itself unseen! light:

When curious Alchymy, with puzzled brow, It flows through flowery meads, Attempted things that Science laughs at now, Gladdening the herds which on its margin Losing the useful purpose she consalts, browse ;

In vain chimeras and unknown results :Its quiet beauty feeds

In those grey times there lived a reverend The alders that o'ershade it with their sage, boughs.

Whose wisdom shed its lustre on the age.

A monk he was, immured in cloister'd walls, Gently it murmurs by

Where now the ivy'd ruin crumbling falls. The Village Church-yard ;—its low, plaintive 'Twas a profound seclusion that he chose ;

The noisy world disturb'd not that repose: tone, A dirge-like melody

The flow of murmuring waters, day by day, For worth, and beauty modest as its own. And whistling winds, that forced their tardy

way More gaily now it sweeps

Thro' reverend trees, of ages' growth, that By the small Schoul-house, in the sunshine, made, bright:

Around the holy pile a deep monastic shade; And o'er the pebbles leaps,

The chapted psalm, or solitary prayer,

Such were the sounds that broke the silence Like bappy hearts by holiday made light.

there. May not its course express, In characters which they who ran may read, 'Twas here when his rites sacerdotal were The charın of gentleness,

o'er, Were but its still small voice allow'd to

In the depth of his cell with its stone-covered

floor, plead ?

Resigning to thought his chimerical brain, What are the trophies gain'd

He formed the contrivance we now sball By power alone, with all its noise and strife, explain : To that meek wreath unstain'd,

But whether by magic or alchymy's powers Won by the charities that gladden life?

We know not, indeed 'tis no business of ours:

Perbaps it was only by patience and care, Niagara’s streams might fail,

At last that he brought his invention to bear. And human happiness be undisturb'd :

In youth 'twas projected; but years stole But Egypt would turn pale,

away, Were her still Nile's o'erflowing bounty

And ere 'twas complete he was wrinkled curb'd!

But success is secure unless energy fails ;
And at length he produced The Philosopher's

Scales.

and grey;

THE PHILOSOPHER'S SCALES. What were they ?-you ask : you shall

presently see; MISS J. TAYLOR.

These scales were not made to weigh sogar In days of yore, as Gothic fable tells,

and tea; When learning dimly gleam'd from grated O no;—for such properties wondrons had cells,

they, When wild Astrology's distorted eye That qualities, feelings, and thoughts they Shunn'd the fair field of true philosophy,

could weigh ;

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Together with articles small or immense, A sword, with gilt trappings, rose up in the
From mountains or planets, to atoms of sense: scale,
Nought was there so bulky, but there it could Though balanced by only a ten-penny nail.
lay;

A shield and a helmet, a buckler and spear And nought so ethereal but there it would Weighed less than a widow's uncrystallized stay;

tear. And nought so reluctant but in it must go; A lord and a lady went up at full sail, All which some examples more clearly will When a bee chanced to light on the opposhow.

site scale.

Ten doctors, ten lawyers, two courtiers, one The first thing he tried was the head of

earl, Voltaire,

Ten counsellors' wigs, full of powder and Which retain'd all the wit that had ever

curl, been there;

All heaped in one balance, and swinging As a weight, he threw in a torn scrap of a from thence, leaf,

Weigh'd less than some atoms of candour Containing the prayer of the penitent thiet;

and sense ;When the skull rose aloft with so sudden a

A first-water diamond, with brilliants begirt, spell,

Than one good potato just washed from the As to bound like a ball, on the roof of the cell.

dirt;

Yet, not mountains of silver and gold would Next time he put in Alexander the Great,

soffice, With a garment that Dorcas had made- One pearl to outweigh, 'twas the "pearl for a weight;

of great price." And tho clad in armour from sandals to crown,

At last the whole world was bowl'd in at The hero rose up, and the garment went

the grate; down.

With the soul of a beggar tu serve for a A long row of alms houses, amply endow'd

weight; By a well-esteem'd pharisee, busy and proud,

When the former sprang up with so strong Now loaded one scale, while the other was

a rebuff,

That it made a vast rent and escaped at the prest By those mites the poor widow dropp'd into

roof; the chest;

Whence, balanced in air, it ascended on Up flew the endowment, not weighing an

high,

And sail'd op aloft--a balloon in the sky: ounce, And down, down, the farthing's worth came

While the scale with the soul in, so mightily with a bonnce.

fell,

That it jerk'd the philosopher out of his cell.
Again, he performed an experiment rare :
A monk, with austerities bleeding and bare,

MORAL.
Climbed into his scale; in the other was laid
The heart of our Howard, now partly de-

Dear reader, if e'er self-deception precayed;

vails, When he found, with surprise that the

We pray you to try The Philosopher's scales: whole of his brother

But if they are lost in the ruins around, Weigh'd less, by some pounds, than this bit

Perhaps a good substitute thus may be

found: of the other.

Let judgment and conscience in circles be By further experiments, (no matter how) cut, He found that ten chariots weigh'd less than to which strings of thought may be careone plough.

fully put:

Exhales amid this grosser air-
Thus lightest hearts are bowed by care,

And genius yields to fate.

Let these be made even, with caution ex

treme, And impartiality use for a beam : Then bring those good actions which priile

over-rates, And tear up your motives to serve for the

weights.

THE CLOCK AND THE DIAL.

DE LA MOTTE.

MISS AIKIN.

THE BALLOON

It happen'd on a cloudy morn,
A self-conceited clock, in scorn

A dial thus bespoke ;
The airy ship at anchor rides ;

My learned friend, if in thy power,
Proudly she heaves her painted sides, Tell me exactly what's the hour;
Impatient of delay;

I am upon the stroke.
And now her silken form expands,
She springs aloft, she bursts her bands, The modest dial thus reply'd,
She noats upon her way.

That point I cannot now decide,

The sun is in the share ; How swift! for now I see her sail

Mly information drawn from him,
High mounted on the viewless gale, I wait till his enlightening beam
And speeding up the sky;

Shall be again display'd.
And now a speck in ether tost-
A moment seen, a moment lost-

Wait for him then, return'd the clock, She cheats my dazzled eye.

I am not that dependent block

His counsel to implore ;
Bright wonder! thee no flapping wing, One winding serves me for a week,
No labouring var, no bounding spring, And, hearken! how the truih I speak,
Urged on thy fleet career;

Ding, ding, ding, cling, just four.
By native buoyancy impelled,
Thy easy flight was smoothly held

While thus the boaster was dieriding Along the silent sphere.

And magisterially deciding,

A sun-beam clear and strong, No curling mist at close of light,

Shew'd on the line, three quarters more; No meteor on the breast of night,

And that the clock in striking four,
No cloud at breezy dawn;

Had told his story wrong.
No leaf adown the summer-tide
More effortless is seen to glide,

On this the dial calmly said,
Or shadow o'er the lawn.

(More prompt ľadvise than to upbraid,)

Friend, go, be regulated ;
Yet thee, e'en thee, the destined hour, Thou answer'st without hesitation,
Shall summon from thy airy tour,

But he who trusts thy calculation
Rapid in prone descent;

Will frequently be cheated,
Methinks I see thee downward borne,
With flaccid sides that droop forlorn,

Observe my practice, shun pretence, The breath ethereal spent.

Not confidence, but evidence,

An answer meet supplies; Thus daring fancy's plume sublime

Blush not to say, "I cannot tell,” Thus love's bright wings are clipp'd by time, Not speaking much, but speaking well, Thus bope, her soul elate,

Denotes the truly wise.

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“ I cannot always go about

MRS. PIOZZI. To hospitals and prisons trudging,

Duty and Pleasure, long at strife, Or fag from morn to night

Crossed in the common walks of life ;Teaching to spell and write

Pray don't disturb me, get you gone” A barefoot rout

Cries Daty, with a serious tone : Swept from the streets by poor Lancaster, Then with a smile ; “keep off, iny dear, My sub-master.

Nor force me thus to be severe."

" That Howard 'ran me out of breath,
And Thornton and a hundred more

Will be my death :
The air is sweet, the month is gay,
And I," said she, “must have a holiday.”

So said, she doffed her robes of brown
In which she commonly is seen,-

Like French Begnine,-
And sent for ornaments to town:
And Taste in Flavia's form stood by,
Penciled her eyebrows, curled her hair,
Disposed each ornament with care,
And hung her round with trinkets rare,
She scarcely, looking in the glass,

Knew her own face.

“Dear Sir,” cries Pleasure, “ you're so

grave!
You make yourself a perfect slave:
I can't think why we disagree ;
You may turn Methodist for me :
But if you'll neither laugh nor play,
At least don't stop me on my way;
Yet sure one moment you might steal,
To see the lovely Miss O'Neill:
One hour to relaxation give;
Ob! lend an hour from life-to live!
And here's a bird, and there's a flower;
Dear Duty, walk a little slower.”

“ My morning's task is not half done,” Cries Duty with an inward groan;

“ False colours on each object spread, Behold the wild confusion tbere!
I know not whence, or where, I'm led! So rude the mass, it makes one stare !
Your boasted pleasares mount the wind,
And leave their venomed stings behind. A stranger, ignorant of the trade,
Where are you flown ?" Voices around Would say, no meaning's there conveyed;
Cry, “ Pleasure long hath left this ground; For where's the middle, where's the border ?
Old Age advances ; haste away!

Thy carpet now is all disorder !"
Nor lose the light of parting day.
See Sickness follows; Sorrow threats ;-

Quoth Dick, “ my work is yet in bits,

But still in every part it fits;
Waste no more time in vain regrets :
O Duty ! one more effort given

Besides, you reason like a lout;
May reach, perhaps, the gates of heaven,

Why, man, that carpet's inside out." Where, only, each with each delighted,

Says John, “ thou say'st the thing I mean, Pleasure and Duty live united !”

And now I hope to cure thy spleen;
This world, which clouds thy soul with

doubt,

Is but a carpet inside out.
THE TWO WEAVERS.

“ As when we view these shreds and ends, MRS. MORE.

We know not what the whole intends ; As at their work two weaver's sat,

So, when on earth things look but odd, Beguiling time with friendly chat,

They're working still some scheme of God. They touched upon the price of meat; So high, a weaver scarce conld eat. “ No plan, no pattern, can we trace;

All wants proportion, truth, and grace: “ What with my brats, and sickly wife," The mutley mixture we deride, Quoth Dick, “ I'm almost tired of life; Nor see the beauteous upper side. So hard we work, so poor we fare, 'Tis more than mortal man can bear.

“ But when we reach the world of light,

And view these works of God aright; “ How glorious is the rich man's state ! Then shall we see the whole design, His house so fine, his wealth so great! And own the Workman is Divine. Heav'n is unjust, you must agree: Why all to him, and none to me?

“What now seem random strokes, will there

All order and design appear ; “In spite of wbat the Scripture teaches, Then shall we praise, what here we sparded, In spite of all the Pulpit preaches, For there the carpet will be turned." This world,-indeed I've thought so long, Is ruled, methinks, extremely wrong.

“ Thou’rt right,” “ quoth Dick, “no more

I'll grumble, “ Where'er I look, howe'er í range,

That this world is so strange a jumble; 'Tis all confused, and hard, and strange ;

My impious doubts are put to flight, The good are troubled and oppressd,

For my own carpet sets me right.” And all the wicked are the bless'd."

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