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The Rev. Mr. MURDOCH,

RECTOR OF STRADDISHALL IN SUFFOLK.

MDCC XXXVIII.

THUS fafely low, my friend, thou can't not fall: Here reigns a deep tranquillity o'er all;

No noife, no care, no vanity, no ftrife;

Men, woods and fields, all breathe untroubled life.
Then keep each paffion down, however dear;
Truft me, the tender are the most severe.
Guard, while 'tis thine, thy philofophic ease,
And ask no joy but that of virtuous peace;
That bids defiance to the ftorms of fate:
High blifs is only for a higher ftate.

A

PARAPHRASE

ΟΝ THE

LATTER PART OF THE SIXTH CHAPTER OF ST. MATTHEW.

WHE

HEN my breast labours with oppreffive care,
And o'er my cheek descends the falling tear;

While all my warring paffions are at strife,
O, let me liften to the words of life!

Raptures deep-felt his doctrine did impart,
And thus he rais'd from earth the drooping heart:
Think not, when all, your scanty stores afford,
Is spread at once upon the fparing board;
Think not, when worn the homely robe appears,
While, on the roof, the howling tempeft bears;
What farther fhall this feeble life fuftain,
And what shall clothe thefe fhiv'ring limbs again.
Say, does not life its nourishment exceed?
And the fair body its investing weed?

Behold! and look away your low defpair

See the light tenants of the barren air:
To them, nor ftores, nor granaries, belong,
Nought, but the woodland, and the pleasing fong;

Yet, your kind heavenly Father bends his eye
On the leaft wing, that flits along the sky.
To him they fing, when Spring renews the plain,
To him they cry, in Winter's pinching reign;
Nor is their mufic nor their plaint in vain:
He hears the gay, and the distressful call,
And with unfparing bounty fills them all.
Obferve the rifing lily's fnowy grace,
Obferve the various vegetable race;

}

They neither toil, nor fpin, but careless grow,
Yet fee how warm they blush! how bright they glow!
What regal vestments can with them compare!
What king fo fhining! or what queen fo fair!

If, ceafelefs, thus the fowls of heaven he feeds,
If o'er the fields fuch lucid robes he spreads;
Will he not care for you, ye faithless, say?
Is he unwife? or, are ye lefs than they?

ON

SONG.

NE day the God of fond defire,
On mischief bent, to Damon faid,
Why not disclose your tender fire,
Not own it to the lovely maid?

The fhepherd mark'd his treacherous art,
And, foftly fighing, thus reply'd:
'Tis true you have fubdu'd my heart,
But shall not triumph o'er my pride.

The flave in private only bears

Your bondage, who his love conceals; But when his paffion he declares,

You drag him at your chariot-wheels.

SONG.

HARD is the fate of him who loves,

Yet dares not tell his trembling pain,

But to the fympathetic groves,

But to the lonely liftening plain.

Oh! when she blesses next your shade,

Oh! when her footsteps next are seen

In flowery tracks along the mead,
In fresher mazes o'er the green,
Τ

VOL. I.

Ye gentle fpirits of the vale,

To whom the tears of love are dear, From dying lilies waft a gale,

And figh my forrows in her ear.

Oh tell her what fhe cannot blame,
Tho' fear my tongue must ever bind;
Oh tell her that my virtuous flame
Is as her spotlefs foul refin'd.

Not her own guardian angel eyes
With chafter tenderness his care,
Not purer her own wifhes rife,

Not holier her own fighs in prayer.

But if, at firft, her virgin fear

Should ftart at love's fufpected name, With that of friendship footh her earTrue love and friendship are the fame.

SON G.

UNLESS with my Amanda bleft,

In vain I twine the woodbine bower;

Unlefs to deck her fweeter breast,
In vain I rear the breathing flower:

Awaken'd by the genial year,

In vain the birds around me fing; In vain the freshening fields appear: love there is no spring.

Without my

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