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* Ev'n deadly nightshade, tho' with poison fraught,
d See a pamphlet lately published by Mr. Gataker, where its virtues are with great candour and judgment display'd. F 3
The pamper'd cit, whose high luxurious food
To you the Naiad of this balmy well
you transfers the lay, whose active mind, Like her own stream from earthly dregs refin'd, Explores a panacea for mankind.
Some Reflections upon hearing the Bell toll
for the Death of a FRIEND.
By Mr. J. G..
Rolls murm’ring thro' the cloudy air:
Affects the gay, alarms the fair.
With what a pathos does it speak!
Affecting deep the thoughtful mind:
That hold in glittering snares mankind.
“Tis Death's dread herald calls aloud,
Proclaims his conquest thro' the skies :
And Nature seems to fympathize. • See a treatise lately publised by doctor Wall, concerning, the extreme purity of the water, and its great efficacy in several obftinate chronical disorders.
reftless sons of care ! Your vain designs his hand can fpoil, Make hard oppressors lend an ear,
And wretched misers cease their toil,
For what avail vast heaps of gold,
When Death his aweful writ shall send? Tho' folly swell, and pride look bold,
The mask must drop, the farce must end.
It is not hoary tottering age
That now lies stretch'd beneath his stroke ; The tyrant ftern, that feels his rage :
Th'oppressor's rod, that now is broke.
But oh !-'tis generous Cynthio's bell!
Fall'n in his prime of youthful bloom : For Cynthio sounds the doleful knell,
And calls him to the silent tomb.
Cynthio!---whose happy healing art
Turn'd from his friends death's fatal blow, And shielded from that threatening dart,
Which now, alas! -- has ļaid him low.
But Cynthio's virtues ne'er can die,
They leave a grateful rich perfume : And now tranfplanted to the sky,
In heav'n's immortal gardens bloom.
And hark!.--ah, what celestial notes,
The sun breaks forth, the skies are clear,
From heav'n descends the joyful strain,
Convey'd to earth on angels wings:
And this the theme of joy it brings :
“ Thus write (the voice from heav'n proclaims)
• The virtuous dead are ever bleft!
“ Their labours cease, and here they rest.
“ Behold, the Saviour wide display
« The trophies of his gen'rous love, " To cheer you thro' life's thorny way,
“ And lead to flowery realms above.
“ 'Tis He destroys Death's baneful iting,
“ And bids the grave's dread horrors ily; “ The choirs of heav'n his triumph fing,
“ And hail him victor thro' the sky."