He will; because it is by him endued All falfe and useless; if beyond the tomb Our beings cease: we therefore can't believe If ev'ry rule of equity demands, That Vice and Virtue from the Almighty's hands, A fyftem of confummate skill appear, And ev'ry cloud difpers'd, be beautiful and clear. Not fo: the day fhall come, (pretend not now The The ARBOUR: An ODE to CONTENTMENT. T By Mr. THOMAS COLE. O thefe lone shades, where Peace delights to dwell, Here bid the world, with all its cares, farewel, Oft as the fummer's fun fhall cheer this fcene,' Here share its calm, 'till life's declining day. No gladfome image then should 'scape my fight, From these gay flow'rs, which border near my eye, To yon bright cloud, that decks, with richeft light, The gilded mantle of the weftern sky. With ample gaze, I'd trace that ridge remote, ; What various works that rural landscape fill, Her chequer'd fcene of crops and fallows fhows? How How should I love to mark that riv'let's maze, Still would I note the shades of length'ning fheep, Nor fhould my leifure feldom wait to view The flow-wing'd rooks in homeward train fucceed; Nor yet forbear the fwallow to pursue, With quicker glance, close skimming o'er the mead. But mostly here should I delight t' explore The bounteous laws of Nature's mystic pow'r; Let Mirth unenvy'd laugh with proud disdain, Nor interrupt thofe joys the cannot taste. Far fweeter ftreams shall flow from Wisdom's spring, Like those which feast the heavenly-pensive foul? Hail Hail Silence then! be thou my frequent guest ; What joy for tutor❜d Piety to learn, All that my chriftian folitude can teach, No object here but may convince the mind, "Tis God that gives this bow'r its aweful gloom; He breathes the life of fragrance on its bloom; Oh! may the guidance of thy grace attend Or vice convert it into means of woe. Incline and aid me ftill my life to steer, As confcience dictates what to shun or chufe; Nor let my heart feel anxious hope or fear, For aught this world can give me or refuse. Then Then shall not wealth's parade one wish excite, What tho' thy wisdom may my lot deny, And fure the heart that wills the gen'rous deed, For the best loves from notice to recede, Then will I fometimes bid my fancy fteal, So fhall I gain the gold without alloy; And spite of all that boaftful wealth can do, E'en |