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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 trust, if shy to me,
Shall find me as reserv'd as he ;

No fubterfuge or pleading
Shall win my confidence again ;
I. will by no means entertain

A spy on my proceeding.
These famples for alas! at last
These are but samples and a taste

Of evils yet unmention'd
May prove the talk a task indeed,
In which'tis much if we {ucceed,

However well-intention'd.
Pursue the search, and you will find,
Good sense and knowledge of mankind

To be at least expedient ;
And after fumming all the rest,
Religion ruling in the brealt,

A principal ingredient.
The noblest friendship ever

The Saviour's history makes known,

Though some have turn'd and turn'd it ;
And whether, being craz'd or blind,
Or seeking with a bias'd mind,

Have not, it seems, difcern'd it.
Oh Friendship ! if my soul forego
Thy dear delights while here below;

To mortify and grieve me,
May I myself at last appear
Unworthy, base, and intincere,
Or may my friend deceive me !


Improvement of time recommended. He mourns the dead, who lives as they desire. Where is that thirst, that avarice of Time, (Blelt avarice!) which the thought of death' inspires ? O time! than gold more sacred ; more a load Than lead, to fools! and fools reputed wife.

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What moment granted man without account?
What years are squander'd, wisdom's debt ur.paid ?
Halte, halte, he lies in wait, he's at the door,
Insidious death; should his Atrong hand arrest,
No composition sets the prisoner free.
Eternity's inexorable chain
Fast binds: and vengeance claims the full arrear.

How late I shudder'd on the brink ! how late
Life call'd for her last refuge in despair !
For what calls thy disease ? for moral aid.
Thou think'st it folly to be wise too soon.
Youth is not rich in time ; it may be poor ;
Part with it as with money, sparing ; pay
No moment, but in purchase of its worth ;
And what its worth, ask 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, wisdom, glory, gain ?
And sport we, like the natives of the bough,
When vernal suns inspire ? Amusement reigns,
Man's great demand : to trifle is to live :
And is it then a trifle, too, to die?
Who wants amusement in the flame of battle?
Is it not treason to the soul immortal,
Her foes in arms, eternity the prize?
Wilt toys amuse, when med'cines cannot cure ?
When fpirits ebb, when life's enchanting scenes
Their lustre lole, and lessen in our sight;
(its lands, and cities with their glitt'ring spires
To the poor shatter'd bark, by sudden form
Thrown off to fea, and soon to perish there,)
Will toys amuse ? —No : thrones will then be toys,
And earth and skies seem dust upon the scale.

Redeem we time?its loss we dearly buy.
What pleads Lorenzo for his high-priz'd sports ?
He pleads time's num'rous blanks; he loudly pleads
The triftes on life's common stream.
From whom those blanks and trifles but from thee
No blank, no trifte, nature made or meant.
Virtue, or purpos’d virtue, ftill he 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 bleit art of turning all to gold;


This, the good heart's prerogative to raise
A royal tribute, from the poorest hours.
Immense revenue ! every moment pays.
If nothing more than purpose in thy power,
Thy purpose firm, is equal to the deed :
Who does the best his circumstance allows,
Does well, acts nobly ; angels could no
Our outward act, indeed, admits restraint;
'Tis not in things o'er thought to domineer ;
Guard wellthy thoughts; our thoughts are heardin 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 lost a day”--the prince who nobly cry'd,
Had been an emperor without his crown.
He spoke, as if deputed by mankind.
So should all speak: so reason speaks in all.
From the soft whispers of that God in man,
Why fly to folly, why to phrenzy fly,
For rescue from the blessing we poffefs?
Time, the supreme !—Time is eternity ;
Pregnant with all eternity can give,
Pregnant with all that makes arch-angels smile :
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 ;
Disclose the long expected flowers,
And wake the purple year !
The Attic warbler pours her throat,
Responsive to the cuckoo's note,

The untaught harmony of Spring ;
While, whisp'ring pleasure as they fly,
Cool zephyrs through the clear blue sky

Their gather'd fragrance fling.
Where'er the oak's thick branches stretch
A broader, browner shade ;

Where'er the rude and moss-grown beech
O'ercanopies the glade ;
Beside some water's rushy brink
With me the muse shall fit and think

(At ease reclin'd in rustic ftate,) How vain the ardour of the crowd, How low, how little are the proud,

How indigent the great !
Still is the toiling hand of care :
The panting herds repose :
Yet, hark, how through the peopled air
The busy murmur glows !
The infect youth are on the wing,
Eager to talte the honey'd spring,

And float amid the liquid noon :
Some lightly o’er the current skim,
Some show 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 busy and the gay
But Autter through life's little day,

In fortune's varying colours drest :
Brush'd by the hand of rough mischance,
Or chill'd by age, their airy dance
They ieave, in dust to rest.

Description of winter at Copenhagen.
From frozen climes, and endlets tracts of snow,
From streams that northern winds forbid to fiow,
What present shall the muse to Dorset bring,
Or how, so near the Pole, attempt to fing?
The hoary winter here conceals from hght
All pleasing objects that to verie invite.
The hills and dales, and the delightful woods,
The flow'ry plains and filver-streaming floods,
By snow disguis'd, in bright confusion lie,
And with one dazzling waste fatigue the eye.

No gentle breathing breeze prepares the 1pring, No birds within the desert region sing. The ships, unmov'd, the boilt'rous winds defy, While rattling chariots o'er the ocean fig.


The valt leviathan wants room to play, And spout his waters in the face of day. The Atarving wolves along the main fca prowl, And to the moon in icy vallies howl. For many a shining league the level main Here spreads itself into a glaffy plain ; There folid billows, of enormous size, Alps of green ice, in wild disorder rife. And yet but lately have I seen, e'en here, The winter in a lovely dress appear. Ere yet the clouds let fall the treasur'd snow, Or winds began thro' hazy skies to blow, At ev'ning a keen eastern breeze arose ; And the descending rain unsullied froze. Soon as the Gilent shades of night withdrew, The ruddy morn disclos'd at once to view The face of nature in a rich disguise, And brighten'd every object to my eyes ; For ev'ry shrub, and ev'ry blade of grass, And ev'ry pointed thorn, seem'd wrought in glass. In pearls and rubies rich the hawthorn show, While through the ice the crimson berries glow. The thick-sprung reeds the wat'ry marshes yield Seem polish'd lances in a hostile field. The Atag, in limpid currents, with surprise Sees crystal branches on his forehead rise. The fpreading oak, the beech, and tow'ring pine, Glaz'd over, in the freezing ether shine. The frighted birds the rati’ling branches shun, That wave and glitter in the distant fun. When, if a sudden gust of wind arise, The brittle forest into atoms flies ; The crackling wood beneath the tempest bends, And in a spangled show'r the prospect ends ; Or, if a fouthern gale the region warm, And by degrees unbind the wintry charm, The traveller a miry country sees, And journeys fad beneath the dropping trees.

Like fome deluded peasant 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 pursue ; And while he thinks the fair illusion true,

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