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His well-experienced skill he plies,
And flings ashore the flouncing prize.
Such tranquil joys the man attend
Whom Innocence and Worth befriend;
Whose wish Ambition ne'er has drove
Beyond his small domain to rove.
The plough, the fold, give all he needs,
And what amuses, clothes and feeds;
While love and duty grace his board,
And bless with smiles their rural lord.
But joys like these they ne'er attain
power or ill-won gain Amid the City's impious noise, Where racking hope and fear annoys.
Sleepless, by Disappointment cross'd, Or Apprehension's tempest toss'd, Some, heedless of Enjoyment's hour, Hang on the hollow smiles of power; Cringe, vilely servile, to the Great, Aud crowd the deaf proud gates of State; And some with endless toil and pain Pant, scramble, grasp,
and squceze Brood v'er the mammon with insatiate gaze, While gnawing want upon their vitals preys.
Puff’d with the breath of vague acclaim,
One glories in.capricious Fame;
Of fickle, empty plaudits proud,
He hails elate the shcuting crowd :
Another, fierce in wordy war,
With venal thunder shakes the Bar;
Or right or wrong, his zeal the same,
The fee, not justice, is his aim.
How few in calm secure repose
Enjoy content what Heaven bestows;
And knowing they cannot Time re-bring,
Leap up and ride upon his wiug.
Bask in the sun while it is day,
Live, and live happy, while you may;
For days and years successive roll,
And life still hastens to the goal.
The Sisters ply their fatal trade,
Nor ever backward trace the thread;
But mortals run with headlong haste
To meet the fate by which they're chas'd;
And madly of their own accord
Rush on the hated Stygian ford.
O great Alcides! lur'd astray
By Glory's over-ardent ray,
Too eagerly you speed to tread
The dismal mansions of the dead !
Soon comes the day the Fates ordain,
And none may Death’s fell hand restrain ;
None may the fatal lot put by-
The urn is shook, and out they fly.'
Let others burn to shine afar
In Grandeur's proud triumphal car;
Let others boast a deathless name,
And the loud voice of babbling Fame
To distant lands and ages roll,
And sound their praise from pole to pole,
Till, claiming kindred with the skies,
Heroes and demi-gods they rise :
But may some humble rustic shed
From strife and envy
shield my head.
Where, safe in my obscure retreat,
In peace th' awards of Heav'n I'll wait.
For hoary age by slow degrecs
Steals on the scenes of quiet ease;
And poverty's small fortune's sure,
In snug humility secure;
While he who climbs ambition's height,
But falls with aggravated weight.
BY THE REV. J. WHITEHOUSE.
O Thou, whose light touch sheds the opiate dews
Of bland Oblivion; thou whose power
Man's wearied, drooping frame renews,
Oft' as thou deignst thy influence shower
On my closed lids, Icad me, O shadowy Queen,
To fairy regions, and some blissful clime
Elysian; picturing the unreal scene
In Fancy's gorgeous garb and imagery sublime:
And bring from out thy magic cell
That potent, necromantic spell,
Which holds the soul in wonder's trance,
While pass thy airy train successive by,
Rolling along the visioned ecstacy
To rapt Attention's glance:
Oft has the Bard whom genius warms,
Who marks at eve thy spectre-forms,
Won from thy magic stores divine
The colouring of his simple line ;
And o'er the page the Muses own
Rays of poetic glory thrown;
And sketched the high-wrought scenes, and bade them
In radiant hues of light, and Fiction's solemn show.
But far, far greater boast was thine
When Inspiration led thy band ;
When not with fond illusions vain,
Such as the idle brain
Alarm, with prodigy and dire portent,
Thou cam’st; but which when Wisdom's self beheld,
Rightly she augured what thy visions meant,
Shadowed in doubtful hues by some immortal hand;
When breathing mystic truths divine,
Full many a seer and prophet thou hast taught,
And from the Almighty brought
Behests of dread command, and import high;
While the rapt mind's judging eye
In cloudless perspective the Future caught :
Nor seldom God or Angel held
Converse with man; the midnight hour
Humined shone with glory's ray,
And coruscations of eternal day
Waved, queen of silence ! o'er thy darksome bower;
Heaven oped her golden portals wide,
And far within her glittering courts were spied
The angelic phalanx robed in vestments bright*,
To earth descending slow from yon fair worlds of light.
And still thy gracious forms await
The good man on the verge of fate;
When this world and the next between,
The Beatific Vision to the sight
Unfolding, opens heaven: then foods the scene,
In boundless bliss absorbed, and deluges of light
Thou canst the heart of Guilt appal ;
Thy voice, () awful Sleep, has power
To wake the dead at midnight hour,
Obedient to thy potent call :
And tyrants oft' have heard with dread
The cry of vengeance thundering in their ear,
While the pale spectre Fear
Hangs her dire portents round the regal bed,
Horrors, and wocs, and death : Night's demons loud
Shriek to the moon afar, from many a passing cloud.
Beneath the dim Earth's centre deep,
Beneath where Ocean rolls his wave,
Where ghosts their lingering sabbath keep,
And thrown across the gulph of fate,
Where Hell her ponderous, adamantine gate
Bars on the mansions of the grave ;
Close by Death's door, on either hand,
Sleep, thy shadowy kingdoms stand;
Stretched on thy ebon-couch supine,
Soft poppy-wreaths thy temples twnie;
Around thee mimic Fancy plays,
The shadow of the evening strays,
And busy murmurs creep;
While dreams in clusters thick are spread
Like hovering mists about thy head,
That with fantastic wing thy dewy eye-lids sweep.
About thy sable standard pass
Of Hopes and Fears a mingled mass,
Fluttering Wishes, gay Desires,
Sighs of Disappointment born,
Passion's unextinguished fires,
And Melancholy's plaint forlorn!
While from the tablet of the brain
Memory calls off her dusky train,
Dim-veiled Illusion mocks the sight
With short-lived phantoms of delight,
And shows of promised bliss, that fly
Ere the young Morn with bashful
From Thetis' coral-woven bed,
Lifts o'er the wave his beaming head :
Amidst the deep-surrounding shade
Ambition's gilded trophies fade;