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But grant, the virtues of a temp'rate prime
Bless with an age exempt from scorn or crime;
An age that melts with unperceived decay,
And glides in modest innocence away;
Whose peaceful day benevolence endears,
Whose night congratulating conscience cheers:
The general fav'rite as the general friend :
Such age there is, and who shall wish its end?
Yet ev'n on this her load Misfortune flings,
To press the weary minutes' flagging wings;
New sorrow rises as the day returns,
A sister sickens, or a daughter mourns.
Now kindred merit fills the sable bier,
Now lacerated friendship claims a tear;
Year chases year, decay pursues decay,
Still drops some joy from with'ring life away;
New forms arise, and diff'rent views engage,
Superfluous lags the vet'ran on the stage,
Till pitying nature signs the last release,
And bids afflicted worth retire to peace.

But few there are whom hours like these await,
Who set unclouded in the gulphs of Fate.
From Lydia's monarch should the search descend,
By Solon cautioned to regard his end,

In life's last scene what prodigies surprise,
Fears of the brave, and follies of the wise!
From Marlb'rough's eyes the streams of dotage flow,
And Swift expires a driv'ler and a show.
The teeming mother, anxious for her race,
Begs for each birth the fortune of a face :

Yet Vane could tell what ills from beauty spring;
And Sedley curs'd the form that pleased a king.

Ye nymphs of rosy lips and radiant eyes,
Whom Pleasure keeps too busy to be wise;
Whom joys with soft varieties invite,
By day the frolic, and the dance by night;
Who frown with vanity, who smile with art,
And ask the latest fashion of the heart;

What care, what rules your heedless charms shall

save,

Each nymph your rival, and each youth your slave,
Against your fame with fondness hate combines,
The rival batters, and the lover mines.
With distant voice neglected Virtue calls,
Less heard and less, the faint remonstrance falls;
Tired with contempt, she quits the slipp'ry reign,
And Pride and Prudence take her seat in vain.
In crowd at once, where none the pass defend,
The harmless freedom, and the private friend.
The guardians yield, by force superior plied,
To Int❜rest, Prudence; and to Flatt'ry, Pride.
Here Beauty falls betrayed, despised, distressed,
And hissing Infamy proclaims the rest.

Where then shall Hope and Fear their objects find?
Must dull Suspense corrupt the stagnant mind?
Must helpless man, in ignorance sedate,
Roll darkling down the torrent of his fate?
Must no dislike alarm, no wishes rise,
No cries invoke the mercies of the skies?

Enquirer, cease; petitions yet remain,

Which Heaven may hear, nor deem religion vain.
Still raise for good the supplicating voice,

But leave to Heaven the measure and the choice.
Safe in His pow'r, whose eyes discern afar
The secret ambush of a specious pray'r,
Implore His aid, in His decisions rest,
Secure, whate'er He gives, He gives the best.
Yet when the sense of sacred presence fires,
And strong devotion to the skies aspires,
Pour forth thy fervours for a healthful mind,
Obedient passions and a will resign'd ;
For love, which scarce collective man can fill;
For patience, sov'reign o'er transmuted ill;
For faith, that, panting for a happier seat,
Counts death kind nature's signal of retreat :
These goods for man the laws of Heav'n ordain,
These goods He grants, who grants the pow'r to
gain:

With these celestial Wisdom calms the mind,

And makes the happiness she does not find.

DR. ROBERTS.

ON THE EXISTENCE OF GOD.

COME then, the scene

Of frantic mirth is o'er the social bowl,
The midnight frolic, and the scornful jest,
Are gone: thy youth is past, thy strength decay'd,
And all the partners of thy wanton hours

Are sunk in shame and sorrow to the grave.
Come, tell me, did a self-convicted soul

Ne'er check thy guilty joys? Did that blest Spirit,
Who o'er the sinner's penitent mind distils.
His precious balm, ne'er interrupt thy peace,
'Mid the rude sallies of unholy mirth

And impure passion; while the still small voice
Of Conscience, made the hour of solitude
To thee more hideous than the silent watch
Of midnight to the sleepless eye of Pain

Or pining Care? O Conscience, heavenly guide, Thou, 'mid the storms, and tempests of the world, 'Mid the rude blasts of chilling penury,

In tears of woe, in death's alarming hour, Spread'st round the good man's couch thy shelt'ring wing,

And all is peace. But oh! how sharp the pang, When in the sinner's agonizing heart

Thou piercest deep, and driv'st the guilty wretch Far from the confines of tumultuous joy

To scenes of melancholy and black despair!

But whence these boding doubts? Why shrinks

the soul

From future ill? If no superior power

Claims homage, why do fancied evils scare
The heart of wisdom, that to crafty tales

Ne'er yielded tame submission? Gracious LORD!
'Tis Thou, that in the sinner's breast dost move,
With kindliest influence; 'tis Thy tender rod
That heals his soul with medicinal wounds:
The voice of conscience is the voice of GOD.

ON THE ATTRIBUTES OF God.

"ON Me, on Me,"

Exclaimed the Son of GOD, " on Me alone

"Let all Thy wrath be poured: their's was the

offence,

"Be Mine the punishment." He spake, and left The golden city's hyacinthine walls;

And thro' the middle of the eastern gates,
Hewn from one solid emerald, as He pass'd,
The angel bowed obeisance. Earth receiv'd
Her gracious visitant. By Him subdued,
Legions of spirits accursed their mangled prey
Reluctant quitted, and with horrid yell
Howled hideous: touch'd by Him the palsied hand,
Long wither'd, felt his genial warmth return,
Circling thro' every vein. He spake, and straight
From the thick film was purg'd the visual ray.
Awed by His potent word, the grave op'd wide

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