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Arms en armour clashing bray'd Horrible discord; and the madding wheels Of brazen fury rag'd.

Sound imitating reluctance.

For who, to dumb forgetfulness a prey,
This pleasing anxious being e'er resign'd;
Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day,
Nor cast one longing, ling'ring look behind?


Connubial affection.

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THE love that cheers life's latest stage,
Proof against sickness and old age,
Preserv'd by virtue from declension,
Becomes not weary of attention :
But lives, when that exterior grace,
Which first inspired the flame, decays.
'Tis gentle, delicate, and kind,
To faults compassionate, or blind;
And will with sympathy endure
Those evils it would gladly cure.
But angry, coarse, and harsh expression,
Shows love to be a mere profession;
Proves that the heart is none of his,
Or soon expels him if it is.

Swarms of flying insects.

Thick in yon stream of light a thousand ways,
Upward and downward, thwarting and convolv'd,
The quiv'ring nations sport; till tempest-wing'd,
Fierce winter sweeps them from the face of day.
Ev'n so, luxurious men, unheeding, pass
An idle summer life, in fortune's shine,
A season's glitter! Thus they flutter on,
From toy to toy, from vanity to vice;
Till, blown away by death, cblivion comes
Behind, and strikes them from the book of life.
Beneficence its own reward.
My fortune (for I'll mention all,

And more than you dare tell) is small;
Yet ev'ry friend partakes my store,
And want goes smiling from my door.

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Will forty shillings warm the breast
Of worth or industry distress'd!
This sum cheerfully impart ;

'Tis fourscore pleasures to my heart:
And you may make, by means like these,
Five talents ten, whene'er you please.
'Tis true, my little purse grows light;
But then I sleep so sweet at night!
This grand specific will prevail,
When all the doctor's opiates fail.

Virtue the best treasure.

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Virtue, the strength and beauty of the soul,
Is the best gift of Heav'n: a happiness
That, even above the smiles and frowns of fate,
Exalts great nature's favourites: a wealth
That ne'er encumbers; nor to baser hands
Can be transferr'd. It is the only good
Man justly boasts of, or can call his own.
Riches are oft by guilt and baseness earn'd.
But for end, one much-neglected use,
Are riches worth our care; (for nature's wants
Are few, and without opulence supplied ;)
This noble end is to produce the soul;
To show the virtues in their fairest light;
And make humanity the minister

Of bounteous Providence.

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As yet 'tis midnight deep. The weary clouds,
Slow meeting, mingle into solid gloom.
Now, while the drowsy world lies lost in sleep,
Let me associate with the serious night,
And contemplation her sedate compeer;
Let me shake off th' intrusive cares of day,
And lay the meddling senses all aside.

Where now, ye lying vanities of life!

Ye ever tempting, ever cheating train !
Where are you now? and what is your amount?
Véxation, disappointment, and remorse.

Sad, sick'ning thought! And yet, deluded man,
A scene of crude disjointed visions past,
And broken slumbers, rises still resolv'd,
With new flush'd hopes, to run the giddy round

Pleasure of piety.

A Deity believ'd, is joy begun;
A Deity ador'd, is joy advanc'd;
A Deity belov'd, is joy matur'd.

Each branch of piety delight inspires :

Faith builds a bridge from this world to the next,
O'er death's dark gulf, and all its horror hides;
Praise, the sweet exhalation of our joy,
That joy exalts, and makes it sweeter still;
Pray'r ardent opens heav'n, lets down a stream }
Of glory, on the consecrated hour
Of man in audience with the Deity




The bears and the bees.

As two young bears, in wanton mood,
Forth issuing from a neighbouring wood,
Came where th' industrious bees had stor'd,
In artful cells, their luscious hoard;
O'erjoy'd they seiz'd, with eager haste,
Luxurious on the rich repast.


Alarm'd at this, the little crew
About their ears vindictive flew.
The beasts, unable to sustain
Th' unequal combat, quit the plain;
Half-blind with rage, and mad with pain,
Their native shelter they regain ;
There sit, and now, discreeter grown,
Too late their rashness they bemoan;
And this by dear experience gain,
That pleasure's ever bought with pain.
So when the gilded baits of vice
Are plac'd before our donging eyes,
With greedy haste we snatch our fill,
And swallow down the latent ill :
But when experience opes our eyes,
Away the fancied pleasure fies.
It flies, but oh! too late we find,
It leaves a real sting behind.-MERRICK.



The nightingale and the glow-worm.

A NIGHTINGALE, that all day long
Had cheer'd the village with his song, |
Nor yet at eve his note suspended,
Nor yet when eventide was ended,
Began to feel, as well he might,
The keen demands of appetite;
When, looking eagerly around,
He spied far off, upon the ground,
A something shining in the dark,
And knew the glow-worm by his spark.
So, stooping down from hawthorn top,
He thought to put him in his crop.
The worm, aware of his intent,
Harangued him thus, right eloquent-

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Did you admire my lamp,' quoth he,
'As much as I your minstrelsy,
You would abhor to do me wrong,
As much as I to spoil your song;
For 'twas the self-same pow'r divine,
Taught you to sing, and me to shine;
That you with music, I with light,

beautify and cheer the night.'
The songster heard his short oration,
And, warbling out his approbation,
Releas'd him, as my story tells,
And found a supper somewhere else.
Hence, jarring sectaries may learn
Their real int'rest to discern;

That brother should not war with brother,
And worry and devour each other :

But sing and shine by sweet consent,

Till life's poor transient night is spent ;

Respecting, in each other's case,

The gifts of nature and of grace.

Those Christians best deserve the name,

Who studiously make peace their aim:

Peace, both the duty and the prize

Of him that creeps and him that flies.-coWPER,

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But chief my fear the dangers moy'd
That virtue's path enclose :
My heart the wise pursuit approv'd;
But O, what toils oppose !

For see, ah see! while yet her ways
With doubtful step I tread,
A hostile world its terrors raise,
Its snares delusive spread.

O how shall I, with heart prepar'd,
Those terrors learn to meet?
How, from the thousand snares to guard
My unexperienc'd feet?

As thus I mus'd, oppressive sleep
Soft o'er my temples drew
Oblivion's veil.-The wat'ry deep,
An object strange and new,

Before me rose on the wide shore
Observant as I stood,

The gathering storms around me roar
And heave the boiling flood

Near and more near the billows rise ;
Ev'n now my steps they lave;
And death to my affrighted eyes
Approach'd in every wave.

What hope, or whither to retreat!
Each nerve at once unstrung;
Chill fear had fetter'd fast my feet,
And chain'd my speechless tongue.
I felt my heart within me die;
When sudden to mine ear

A voice, descending from on high,
Reprov'd my erring fear.

"What tho' the swelling surge thou see Impatient to dévour;

Rest, mortal, rest on God's decree,

And thankful own his pow'r.

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