« ПредишнаНапред »
Should then the weary eye of grief,
Beside some sympathetic stream, In Number find a short relief,
Oh visit thou my soothing dream!
Ε Ρ Ι Τ Α Ρ Η
Miss STANLE Y.
Above the joys, beyond the woes of life.
O born to bloom, then link beneath the storm;
Yes, we must follow soon, will glad obey,
Bleft be the bark ! that wafts 'us to the shore,
To the REVEREND
: MR MURDOCH, RECTOR of Straddisball in Suffolk. 1738.
HUS fafely low, my friend, thou canst not fall::
Here reigns a deep tranquillity o'er alk. 1 No noise, no care, do vanity, no ftrife; Men, woods and fields, all breathe untroubled life. Then keep each pallion down, however dear; Trust me, che tender are the most severe. i's sui Guard, while 'tis thine, tly philosophic ease, tai And ask no joy but that of virtnous peace; ioco That bids defiance to the forms of fate: $ High bliss is only for a higher ftate,
LATTER PART of the 6th Chapter of St Matthew,
7HEN my breast labours with oppreffive care,
And o'er my cheek descends the falling tear; While all my warring pallions are at strife, Oh, let me listen to the words of life!
Raptures deep-felt his doctrine did impart,
Think not, when all your feanty stores afford,
Behold! and look away your low despair-
Observe the rising lilly's snowy grace,
If, ceaseless, thus the fowls of heaven he feeds,
On mischief bent, to Damon said,
And softly lighing, thus reply'd:
III. The Nave, in private only bears
Your bondage, who his love conceals; But when his palion he declares,
You drag him at your chariot-wheels.
ARD is the fate of him who loves,
Yet dares not tell his trembling pain, But to the sympathetic groves,
But to the lonely listening plain !
Oh! when she blesses next your shade,
Oh! when her foot-steps next are seen In flowery tracts along the mead,
In fresher mazes o'er the green ;
Ve gentle spirits of the vale,
To whom the tears of love are deari, From dying lillies waft a gale,
And ligh my sorrow.s.in her ear.
O! tell ber, what she cannot blame,
Tho' fear my tongue must ever bind, Oh tell her that my virtuous flame
Is as her spotlefs soul refin'd.
Not her own guardian angel eyes
With chaster tenderness his care, Nor purer her own wishes rise,
Not holier her own sighs in prayer.
But if, at first, her virgin fear
Should start at love's fuspected name, With that of friendship foothe her ear
True love and friendship are the same.
Unless to deck here sweeter breast,
In vain the birds around me sing ; In vain the fresh'ning fields appear :
Without my love there is no spring.
POR ever, Fortune, wilt thou