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And make humanity the minister

Of bounteous Providence.

Contemplation.

As yet 'tis midnight deep. The weary clouds,
Slow meeting, mingle into solid gloom.
Now, while the drowsy world lies lost in sleep,
Let me associate with the serious night,
And contemplation, her sedate compeer;
Let me shake off th' intrusive cares of day,
And lay the meddling senses all aside.
Where now, ye lying vanities of life!
Ye ever tempting, ever cheating train!
Where are you now? and what is your amount?
Vexation, disappointment, and remorse.
Sad, sick'ning thought! And yet, deluded man,
A scene of crude disjointed visions past,
And broken slumbers, rises still resolv'd,
With new flush'd hopes, to run the giddy round.
Pleasure of piety.

A Deity believ'd, is joy begun;
A Deity ador'd is joy advanc'd;
A Deity belov'd, is joy matur'd.

Each branch of piety delight inspires:

Faith builds a bridge from this world to the next,
O'er death's dark gulf, and all its horror hides;
Praise, the sweet exhalation of our joy,
That joy exalts, and makes it sweeter still;
Pray'r ardent opens heav'n, lets down a stream
Of glory, on the consecrated hour
Of man in audience with the Deity.

CHAP. II.

NARRATIVA PINCES.

SECTION I.

The bears and the bees.

1 As two young bears in wanton mood,
Forth issuing from a neighbouring wood,
Came where th' industrious bees had stor'd,
In artful cells, their luscious hoard;
O'erjoy'd they seiz'd, with eager haste,
Luxurious on the rich repast.

Alarm'd at this the little crew,
About their ears, vindictive flew.

2 The beasts, unable to sustain

Th' unequal combat, quit the plain : Half-blind with rage, and mad with pain, Their native shelter they regain; There sit, and now, discreeter grown, Too late their rashness they bemoan; And this by dear experience gain, That pleasure's ever bought with pain. 5 So when the gilded baits of vice, Are plac'd before our longing eyes, With greedy haste we snatch our fill, And swallow down the latent ill: But when experience opes our eyes, Away the fancied pleasure flies. It flies, but oh! too late we find, It leaves a real sting behind.-MERRICK.

SECTION II.

The nightingale and the glow-worm.

1 A nightingale that all day long
Had cheer'd the village with his song,
Nor yet at eve his note suspended,
Nor yet when eventide was ended,
Began to feel, as well he might,
The keen demands of appetite;
When looking eagerly around,
He spied far off, upon the ground,
A something shining in the dark,
And knew the glow-worm by his spark..
So, stooping down from hawthorn top,
He thought to put him in his crop.

The worm, aware of his intent,
Harangued him thus, right eloquent-
"Did you admire my lamp," quoth he,
"As much as I your minstrelsy,
You would abhor to do me wrong,
As much as I to speil your song;
For 'twas the self-same Pow'r divine,
1Taught you to sing, and me to sidine;

That you with music, I with light,
Might beautify and cheer the night."
3 The songster heard his short oration,
And, warbling out his approbation,
Releas'd him, as my story tells,

And found a supper somewhere else.
Hence, jarring sectaries may learn,
Their real int'rest to discern;

That brother should not war with brother,
And worry and devour each other.
But sing and shine by sweet consent,
Till life's poor, transient night, is spent;
Respecting, in each other's case,

The gifts of nature and of grace.

4 Those Christians best deserve the name, Who studiously make peace their aim : Peace, both the duty and the prize

Of him that creeps, and him that flies.-cowPER. SECTION III.

The trials of virtue.

1 Plac'd on the verge of youth, my mind
Life's op'ning scene survey'd :

I view'd its ills of various kind,
Afflicted and afraid.

2 But chief my fear the dangers mov'd
That virtue's path enclose:

My heart the wise pursuit approv'd;
But O, what toils oppose!

3 For see, ah see! while yet her ways
With doubtful step I tread,

A hostile world its terrors raise,
Its snares delusive spread.

4 O how shall I, with heart prepar'd,
Those terrors learn to meet?

How, from the thousand snares to guard.
My unexperienc'd feet?

5 As thus I mus'd, oppressive sleep,

Soft o'er my temples drew

Oblivion's veil.-The wat'ry deep, (An object strange and new,)

6 Before me rose: on the wide shore
Observant as I stood,

The gathering storms around me roar,
And heave the boiling flood.

7 Near and more near the billows rise;
Ev'n now my steps they lave;
And death, to my affrighted eyes,
Approach'd in every wave.

8 What hope, or whither to retreat!
Each nerve at once unstrung;
Chill fear had fetter'd fast my feet,
And chain'd my speechless tongue.

9 I felt my heart within me die;
When sudden to mine ear

A voice, descending from on high,
Reprov'd my erring fear.

10" What tho' the swelling surge thou see Impatient to devour;

Rest, mortal, rest on God's decree,
And thankful own his pow'r.

11 Know, when he bade the deep appear, 'Thus far,' th' Almighty said,

Thus far, no farther, rage; and here 'Let thy proud waves be stay'd.'” 12 I heard; and lo! at once controll'd, The waves, in wild retreat,

Back on themselves reluctant roll'd,
And, murm'ring, left my feet.

13 Deeps, to assembling deeps, in vain
Once more the signal gave:

The shores the rushing weight sustain,
And check th' usurping wave.

14 Convine'd, in nature's volume wise,
The imag'd truth I read;

And sudden from my waking eyes,
Th' instructive vision fled.

15 Then why thus heavy, O my soul !
Say, why distrustful still,

Thy thoughts with vain impatience" roll
O'er scenes of future ill?

16 Let faith suppress each rising fear,

Each anxious doubt exclude:

Thy Maker's will has plac'd thee here,
A Maker wise and good!

17 He to thy ev'ry trial knows,
Its just restraint to give ;
Attentive to behold thy woes,
And faithful to relieve.

18 Then why thus heavy, O my soul !
Say, why distrustful still,

Thy thoughts with vain in patience roll
O'er scenes of future ill?

19 Tho' griefs unnumber'd throng thee round, Still in thy God confide,

Whose finger marks the seas their bound, And curbs the headlong tide.-MERRICK. SECTION IV.

·The youth and the philosopher.

1 A Grecian youth, of talents rare,
Whom Plato's philosophic care,
Had form'd for virtue's nobler view,
By precept and example too,

Would often boast his matchless skill,
To curb the steed, and guide the wheel;
And as he pass'd the gazing throng,

With graceful ease, and smack'd the thong,
The idiot wonder they express'd,

Was praise and transport to his breast.

2 At length, quite vain, he needs would show His master what his art could do ;

And bade his slaves the chariot lead
To Academus' sacred shade.

The trembling grove confess'd its fright;
The wood-nymph started at the sight;
The muses drop the learned lyre,
And to their inmost shades retire.

3 Howe'er, the youth, with forward air,
Bows to the sage, and mounts the car.
The lash resounds, the coursers spring,
The chariot marks the rolling ring;

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