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The tott'ring vessel quivers with the blast,
And angry clouds obscure the cheerful day. Yet why repine ?-my anxious breast, be fill!
No human bliss is free from foul alloy; But what at present bears the face of ill,
May end in smiling peace and lasting joy. Soon that Pow'r supreme, whose dread command
Can still the tumults of the raging main, Through paths of danger, with unerring hand,
Guide me to thee and happiness again. In Him, my Delia! then thy trust repose:
'Tis He alone the joyless bosom cheers; He soothes, when absent, all our'heart-felt woes,
At home, our soft domestic scene endears.
THE THREE WARNINGS.
Least willing still to quit the ground;
That love of life increas’d with years
The greatest love of life appears.
Quit your sweet bride and come with me.”
• With you! and quit my Susan's side ?
His reasons could not well be stronger;
And left to live a little longer.
Neighbour," he said, “ farewell ! no more
future station, Three sev’ral Warnings you shall have, Before you're summond to the
grave : Willing for once I'll quit my prey,
And grant a kind reprieve;
Well pleas'd the world will leave.”
What next the hero of our tale befell,
The willing muse shall tell:
Nor thought of Death as near;
Old Time, whose haste no mortal spares,
Brought on his eightieth year.
As all alone he lat,
Th’unwelcome messenger of Fate Once more before him stood. Half kill'd with anger and surprise, • So soon return'd! old Dobson cries; “ So soon! d’ye call it ?” Death replies;
Surely, my friend, you're but in jeft!
Since I was here before 'Tis six and thirty years, at least,
And you are now fourscore.”
• So much the worse!' the clown rejoin'd; • To spare the aged would be kind. However, see your search be legal ; And your authority-is't regal ? Else you are come on a fool's errand, With but a secretary's warrant. Besides, you promis'd me Three Warnings, Which I have look'd for nights and mornings ; But, for that loss of time and ease, I can recover damages.'
“ I know,” cries Death, “ that, at the best, I seldom am a welcome guest; But don't be captious, friend, at least. I little thought you'd still be able To stụmp about your farm and stable; Your years have run to a great length; I wish you joy, though, of your strength!"
· Hold,' says the farmer, 'not so fast ! I have been lame these four years past.'
“ And no great wonder !” Death replies; “ However, you still keep your eyes ; And, sure, to see one's loves and friends, For legs and arms would make amends."
• Perhaps,' says Dobson, so it might; But latterly I've lost my sight.'
“ This is a shocking story, 'faith ; Yet there's some comfort ftill,” says Death: " Each strives your sadness to amuse; I warrant you hear all the news.” · There's none, cries he ; and if there were, I'm grown so deaf, I could not hear.'
“ Nay then !" the spečtre stern rejoin'd,
“ These are unjustifi'bie yearnings; If you are lame, and deaf, and blind,
You've had your Three sufficient Warnings. So come along, no more we'll part :" He said, and touch'd him with his dart; And now, old Dobson, turning pale, Yields to his fate—so ends my tale.
THE NEGRO'S COMPLAINT.
file from home and all its pleasures,
O'er the raging billows borne:
Paid my price in paltry gold;
Minds are never to be sold.
What are England's rights, I ask, Me from my delights to lever,
Me to torture, me to talk ? Fleecy locks and black complexion
Cannot forfeit Nature's claim; Skins may differ, but affection
Dwells in white and black the same.
Make the plant for which we toil ?
Sweat of ours must dress the foil.
Lolling at your jovial boards ;
For the sweets your cane affords !
Is there one who reigns on high?