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(Each hardly granted) serv'd them both to dine,
And when the tempest first appeared to cease,
A ready warning bid them part in peace.

With still remark the pondering hermit view'd,
In one so rich, a life so poor and rude;
“And why should such,” within himself he cried,
“ Lock the lost wealth a thousand want beside ?"

But what new marks of wonder soon take place,
In every settling feature of his face;
When from his vest the young companion bore
That cup, the generous landlord own'd before,
And paid profusely with the precious bowl

The stinted kindness of this churlish soul. . But now the clouds in airy tumult ily!

The Sun emerging opes an azure sky;
A fresher green the smelling leaves display,
And, glittering as they tremble, cheer the day:
The weather courts them from the poor retreat,
And the glad master bolts the wary gate.

While hence they walk, the pilgrim's bosom wrought
With all the travail of uncertain thought;
His partner's acts without their cause appear,
'T was there a vice, and seem'd a madness here:
Detesting that, and pitying this, he goes,
Lost and confounded with the various shows.

Now Night's dim shades again involve the sky,
Again the wanderers want a place to lie,
Again they search, and find a lodging nigh,
The soil improv'd around, the mansion neat,
And neither poorly low, nor idly great:
It seem'd to speak its master's turn of mind,
Content, and not to praise, but virtue kind.

Hither the walkers turn with weary feet,
Then bless the mansion, and the master greet:
Their greeting fair, bestow'd with modest guise,
The courteous master hears, and thus replies :

“Without a vain, without a grudging heart,

To him who gives us all, I yield a part;
From him you come, for him accept it here,
A frank and sober, more than costly cheer,”
Fle spoke, and bid the welcome table spread,
Then talk of virtue till the time of bed,
When the grave household round his hall repair,
Warn’d by a bell, and close the hours with prayer.

At length the world, renew'd by calm repose,
Was strong for toil, the dappled Morn arose;
Before the pilgrims part, the younger crept
Near the clos'd cradle where an infant slept,
And writh'd his neck: the landlord's little pride,
O strange return! grew black, and gasp'd, and died.
Horror of horrors! what! his only son!
How look'd our hermit when the fact was done;
Not Hell, though Hell's black jaws in sunder part,
And breathe blue fire, could more assault his heart.

Confus'd, and struck with silence at the deed, He flies, but trembling, fails to fly with speed. His steps the youth pursues; the country lay Perplex'd with roads, a servant show'd the way: A river cross'd the path; the passage o'er Was nice to find; the servant trod before; Long arms of oaks an open bridge supplied, And deep the waves beneath them bending glide. The youth, who seem'd to watch a time to sin, Approach'd the careless guide, and thrust him in : Plunging he falls, and rising lifts his head, Then flashing turns, and sinks among the dead.

Wild, sparkling rage inflames the father's eyes, He bursts the bands of fear, and madly cries, “Detested wretch !”–But scarce his speech began, When the strange partner seem'd no longer man: His youthful face grew more serenely sweet; His robe turn'd white, and flow'd upon his feet; Fair rounds of radiant points invest his hair; Celestial odors breathe through purpled air;

And wings, whose colors glitter'd on the day,
Wide at his back their. gradual plumes display.
The form ethereal burst upon his sight,
And moved in all the riajesty of light.

Though loud at first the pilgrim's passion grew,
Sudden he gaz'd, and wist not what to do;
Surprise in secret chains his words suspends,
And in a calm his settling temper ends.
But silence here the beauteous angel broke
(The voice of music ravish'd as he spoke).

“Thy prayer, thy praise, thy life to vice unknown.
In sweet memorial rise before the throne:
These charms success in our bright region find
And force an angel down, to calm thy mind;
For this, commissioned, I forsook the sky,
Nay, cease to kneel—thy fellow-servant I.

“Then know the truth of government divine, And let these scruples be no longer thine.

“The Maker justly claims that world he made,
In this the right of Providence is laid;
Its sacred majesty through all depends
On using second means to work his ends :
'Tis thus, withdrawn in state from human eye,
The power exerts his attributes on high,
Your actions uses, nor controls your will,
And bids the doubting sons of men be still.

“What strange events can strike with more surprise
Than those which lately struck thy wondering eyes ?
Yet, taught by these, confess th' Almighty just,
And where you can't unriddle, learn to trust!

“The great, vain man, who far'd on costly food, Whose life was too luxurious to be good; Who made his ivory stands with goblets shine, And forc'd his guests to morning draughts of wine, Has, with the cup, the graceless custom lost, And still he welcomes, but with less of cost.

“ The mean, suspicious wretch, whose bolted door

Ne'er mov'd in duty to the wandering poor;
With him I left the cup, to teach his mind
That Ileaven can bless, if mortals will be kind.
Conscious of wanting worth, he views the bowl,
And feels compassion touch his grateful soul.
Thus artists melt the sullen ore of lead,
With heaping coals of fire upon his head;
In the kind warmth the metal learns to glow,
And loose from dross the silver runs below.

"Long had our pious friend in virtue trod, But now the child half-weaned his heart from God (Child of his age) for him he liv'd in pain, And measured back his steps to Earth again. To what excesses had his dotage run? But God, to save the father, took the son. To all but thee, in fits he seem'd to go, (And ’t was my ministry to deal the blow,) The poor fond parent, humbled in the dust, Now owns in tears the punishment was just.

“But now had all his fortune felt a wrack,
Had that false servant sped in safety back;
This night his treasur'd heaps he meant to steal,
And what a fund of charity would fail !
Thus Heaven instructs thy mind: this trial o'er,
Depart in peace, resign, and sin no more."

On sounding pinions here the youth withdrew,
The sage stood wondering as the seraph flew.
Thus look'd Elisha when, to mount on high,
His master took the chariot of the sky;
The fiery pomp ascending left to view;
The prophet gazed, and wish'd to follow too.

The bending hermit here a prayer begun,
Lord! as in Heaven, on Earth thy will be done."
Then gladly turning sought his ancient place,
And passed a life of piety and peace.

THOMAS PARNELL

On the Prospect of Planting Arts and Learning

in America.

The Muse, disgusted at an age and clime

Barren of every glorious theme,
In distant lands now waits a better time,

Producing subjects worthy fame;
In happy climes, where from the genial sun

And virgin earth such scenes ensue,
The force of art by nature seems outdone,

And fancied beauties by the true;

In happy climes the seat of innocence,

Where nature guides and virtue rules,
Where men shall not impose, for truth and sense,

The pedantry of courts and schools.

There shall be sung another golden age,

The rise of empire and of arts,
The good and great uprising epic rage,

The wisest heads and noblest hearts.

Not such as Europe breeds in her decay;

Such as she bred when fresh and young,
When heavenly flame did animate her clay,

By future poets shall be sung.

Westward the course of empire takes its way;

The first four acts already past,
The fifth shall close the drama with the day;
Time's noblest offspring is the last.

GEORGE BERKELEY

Sally in our Alley.

Or all the girls that are so smart,

There's none like Pretty Sally;

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