How blest the Solitary's lot, The cavern wild with tangling roots, Or, haply, to his ev'ning thought, The ways of men are distant brought, A faint-collected dream: While praising, and raising His thoughts to Heav'n on As wand'ring, meand'ring, Than I, no lonely hermit plac'd But ah! those pleasures, loves, and joys, Which I too keenly taste, The Solitary can despise, Can want, and yet be blest! Oh! enviable, early days, When dancing thoughtless pleasure's maze, To care, to guilt unknown! Of others, or my own! That active man engage! MAN WAS MADE TO MOURN. A DIRGE. WHEN Chill November's surly blast I spy'd a man, whose aged step Young stranger, whither wand'rest thou? Began the rev'rend Sage! But see him on the edge of life, Show Man was made to mourn. A few seem favourites of fate, In pleasure's lap carest; Yet, think not all the rich and great Are likewise truly blest. But, Oh! what crowds in ev'ry land Are wretched and forlorn; Does thirst of wealth thy step con- Thro' weary life this lesson learn, strain, Or youthful pleasure's rage? Or, haply, prest with cares and woes, Too soon thou hast began To wander forth, with me, to mourn The miseries of Man. The sun that overhangs yon moors, Twice forty times return; O man! while in thy early years, Look not alone on youthful prime, Or manhood's active might; Man then is useful to his kind, Supported is his right, That Man was made to mourn. Many and sharp the num'rous ills Regret, remorse, and shame! Makes countless thousands mourn! See yonder poor, o'erlabour'd wight, If I'm design'd yon lordling's slave, Or why has man the will and pow'r A PRAYER, IN THE PROSPECT OF DEATH. O THOU unknown, Almighty Cause In whose dread presence, ere an hour, If I have wander'd in those paths Thou know'st that Thou hast formed me Where human weakness has come short, Or frailty stept aside, Do Thou, All-Good! for such Thou art, In shades of darkness hide. Where with intention I have err'd, But, Thou art good; and Goodness Delighteth to forgive. STANZAS ON THE SAME OCCASION. WHY am I loth to leave this earthly scene! Have I so found it full of pleasing charms? Or Death's unlovely, dreary, dark abode ? Fain would I say, 'Forgive my foul offence!' Again exalt the brute, and sink the man; Then how should I for Heavenly mercy pray, Who act so counter Heavenly mercy's plan? Who sin so oft have mourn'd, yet to temptation ran? O Thou, great Governor of all below! If I may dare a lifted eye to Thee, Thy nod can make the tempest cease to blow, With that controuling pow'r assist ev'n me, To rule their torrent in th' allowed line; LYING AT A REVEREND FRIEND'S HOUSE ONE NIGHT, THE AUTHOR LEFT THE FOLLOWING VERSES IN THE ROOM WHERE HE SLEPT. O THOU dread Pow'r, who reign'st | Their hope, their stay, their darling above, I know Thou wilt me hear; youth, In manhood's dawning blush; When for this scene of peace and Bless him, thou God of love and truth Up to a parent's wish. The beauteous, seraph sister-band, Thou know'st the snares on ev'ry hand, When soon or late they reach that coast, O'er life's rough ocean driven, May they rejoice, no wand'rer lost, A family in Heaven! THE FIRST SIX VERSES OF THE NINETIETH PSALM. O THOU, the first, the greatest | Those mighty periods of years friend Which seem to us so vast, Appear no more before Thy sight That yesterday that's past. Thou giv'st the word; Thy creature, man, Is to existence brought; Before the mountains heav'd their Again Thou say'st, 'Ye sons of men, heads Beneath Thy forming hand, Before this ponderous globe itself, Arose at Thy command; That pow'r which rais'd and still upholds This universal frame, Return ye into nought!' Thou layest them, with all their cares, As with a flood thou tak'st them off They flourish like the morning flow'r, |