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Some act upon this prudent plan,
"Say little, and hear all you can
Safe policy, but hateful-
So barren fands imbibe the shower,
But render neither fruit nor flower,
Unpleasant and ungrateful.
The man I truft, if fhy to me,
Shall find me as referv'd as he ;
No fubterfuge or pleading
Shall win my confidence again;
I will by no means entertain

A fpy on my proceeding.
Thefe famples-for alas! at laft
Thefe are but famples and a tafte
Of evils yet unmention'd-
May prove the task a task indeed,
In which 'tis much if we fucceed,
However well-intention'd.


Purfue the fearch, and you will find,
Good fenfe and knowledge of mankind
To be at least expedient;
And after fumming all the reft,
Religion ruling in the breast,
A principal ingredient.
The nobleft friendship ever fhown
The Saviour's hiftory makes known,
Though fome have turn'd and turn'd it;
And whether, being craz'd or blind,
Or feeking with a bias'd mind,

Have not, it feems, difcern'd it.
Oh Friendship! if my foul forego
Thy dear delights while here below;
To mortify and grieve me,
May I myself at laft appear
Unworthy, bafe, and infincere,
Or may my friend deceive me!



Improvement of time recommended.

HE mourns the dead, who lives as they defire.

Where is that thirst, that avarice of Time,
(Bleft avarice!) which the thought of death infpires?
O time than gold more facred; more a load
Than lead, to fools! and fools reputed wife.

What moment granted man without account?
What years are fquander'd, wifdom's debt unpaid ?
Hafte, haste, he lies in wait, he's at the door,
Infidious death; fhould his ftrong hand arrest,
No compofition fets the prifoner free.
Eternity's inexorable chain

Fat binds: and vengeance claims the full arrear.
How late I fhudder'd on the brink! how late
Life call'd for her laft refuge in despair!
For what calls thy difeafe? for moral aid.
Thou think'ft it folly to be wife too foon.
Youth is not rich in time; it may be poor;
Part with it as with money, fparing; pay
No moment, but in purchase of its worth;
And what its worth, afk death-beds, they can tell
Part with it as with life, reluctant; big
With holy hope of nobler time to come.

Is this our duty, wifdom, glory, gain?
And sport we, like the natives of the bough,
When vernal funs infpire? Amusement reigns,
Man's great demand to trifle is to live:
And is it then a trifle, too, to die?—
Who wants amufement in the flame of battle?
Is it not treafon to the foul immortal,
Her foes in arms, eternity the prize?

Wilt toys amufe, when med'cines cannot cure?
When fpirits ebb, when life's enchanting scenes
Their luftre lofe, and leffen in our fight;
(As lands, and cities with their glitt'ring fpires
To the poor fhatter'd bark, by fudden form
Thrown off to fea, and foon to perifh there,)
Will toys amufe ?-No: thrones will then be toys,
And earth and fkies feem duft upon the fcale.
Redeem we time?—its lofs we dearly buy.
What pleads Lorenzo for his high-priz'd fports?
He pleads time's num'rous blanks; he loudly pleads
The ftraw-like trifles on life's common fream.
From whom those blanks and trifles but from thee?
No blank, no trifle, nature nad or meant.
Virtue, or purpos'd virtue, ftill be thine:

This cancels thy complaint at once; this leaves
In act no trifle, and no blank in time.
This greatens, fills, immortalizes all :
This, the bleft art of turning all to gold;

This, the good heart's prerogative to raise
A royal tribute, from the poorest hours.
Immenfe revenue! every moment pays.
If nothing more than purpose in thy power,
Thy purpofe firm, is equal to the deed:
Who does the beft his circumftance allows,
Does well, acts nobly; angels could no more.
Our outward act, indeed, admits restraint;
'Tis not in things o'er thought to domineer;
Guard well thy thoughts; our thoughts areheard in heaven.
On all-important time, through ev'ry age,
Tho' much, and warm, the wife have urg'd; the man
Is yet unborn, who duly weighs an hour.
"I've loft a day"-the prince who nobly cry'd,
Had been an emperor without his crown.
He fpoke, as if deputed by mankind.

So fhould all speak: fo reafon fpeaks in all.
From the foft whispers of that God in man,
Why fly to folly, why to phrenzy fly,
For refcue from the bleffing we poffefs?
Time, the fupreme !-Time is eternity;
Pregnant with all eternity can give,
Pregnant with all that makes arch-angels fmile :
Who murders time, he crushes in the birth
A power ethereal, only not ador'd.





The Spring.

LO! where the rofy-bofom'd hours,
Fair Venus' train, appear;
Difclofe the long expected flowers,
And wake the purple year !
The Attic warbler pours her throat,
Refponfive to the cuckoo's note,

The untaught harmony of Spring;
While, whifp'ring pleasure as they fly,
Cool zephyrs through the clear blue fky
Their gather'd fragrance fling.
Where'er the oak's thick branches stretch
A broader, browner fhade ;

Where'er the rude and mofs-grown beech
O'ercanopies the glade;
Befide fome water's rufhy brink
With me the mufe fhall fit and think
(At eafe reclin'd in ruftic ftate,)
How vain the ardour of the crowd,
How low, how little are the proud,
How indigent the great!

Still is toiling hand of care:
The panting herds repofe:
Yet, hark, how through the peopled air
The bufy murmur glows!
The infect youth are on the wing,
Eager to taste the honey'd fpring,

And float amid the liquid noon :
Some lightly o'er the current skim,
Some fhow their gaily-gilded trim
Quick glancing to the fun.
To contemplation's fober eye
Such is the race of man ;

And they that creep, and they that fly,
Shall end where they began.

Alike the bufy and the gay
But flutter through life's little day,

In fortune's varying colours dreft:
Brufh'd by the hand of rough mifchance,
Or chill'd by age, their airy dance
They leave, in duft to reft.



Defcription of winter at Copenhagen. FROM frozen climes, and endlefs tracts of fnow, From ftreams that northern winds forbid to flow, What prefent fhall the mufe to Dorfet bring, Or how, fo near the Pole, attempt to fing? The hoary winter here conceals from fight All pleafing objects that to verie invite. The hills and dales, and the delightful woods, The flow'ry plains and filver-ftreaming floods,. By fnow difguis'd, in bright confufion lie, And with one dazzling wafte fatigue the eye.

No gentle breathing breeze prepares the ipring, No birds within the defert region fing. The hips, unmov'd, the boift'ious winds defy, While rattling chariots o'er the ocean fly.

The vaft leviathan wants room to play,
And fpout his waters in the face of day.
The ftarving wolves along the main fea prowl,
And to the moon in icy vallies howl.
For many a fhining league the level main
Here fpreads itself into a glaffy plain;
There folid billows, of enormous fize,
Alps of green ice, in wild disorder rife.
And yet but lately have I feen, e'en here,
The winter in a lovely drefs appear.
Ere yet the clouds let fall the treafur'd fnow,
Or winds began thro' hazy skies to blow,
At ev'ning a keen eastern breeze arose;
And the defcending rain unfullied froze.
Soon as the filent fhades of night withdrew,
The ruddy morn difclos'd at once to view
The face of nature in a rich difguife,
And brighten'd every object to my eyes;
For ev'ry fhrub, and ev'ry blade of grafs,
And ev'ry pointed thorn, feem'd wrought in glass.
In pearls and rubies rich the hawthorn fhow,
While through the ice the crimson berries glow.
The thick-fprung reeds the wat'ry marfhes yield
Seem polifh'd lances in a hostile field.
The ftag, in limpid currents, with furprise
Sees crystal branches on his forehead rife.
The fpreading oak, the beech, and tow'ring pine,
Glaz'd over, in the freezing ether shine.
The frighted birds the rattling branches fhun,
That wave and glitter in the distant fun.
When, if a fudden gust of wind arife,
The brittle foreft into atoms flies;

The crackling wood beneath the tempeft bends,
And in a fpangled fhow'r the profpect ends;
Or, if a fouthern gale the region warm,
And by degrees unbind the wintry charm,
The traveller a miry country fees,
And journeys fad beneath the dropping trees.
Like fome deluded peafant Merlin leads
Thro' fragrant bowers, and thro' delicious meads;
While here enchanting gardens to him rife,
And airy fabrics there attract his eyes,
His wandering feet the magic path purfue;
And while he thinks the fair illufion true,

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