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No more the morn with tepid rays
Noon spreads no more the genial blaze,
The lingering hours prolong the night,
Her mists restrain the force of light,
By gloomy twilight half reveal’d,
The leafless wood, the naked field,
No music warbles through the grove,
No more with devious steps I rove
Aloud the driving tempest roars,
Haste, close the window, bar the doors,
In nature's aid let art supply
Rouse, rouse the fire, and pile it high,
Let music sound the voice of joy!
Let Love his wanton wiles employ,
Yet time life's dreary winter brings,
Nor music charm—though Stella sings;
Catch then, O! catch the transient hour,
Life's a short Summer—man a flower,
THE wintER's walk.
BY THE SAM e.
Benold, my fair, where'er we rove,
The naked hill, the leafless grove,
Nor only through the wasted plain,
Still wider spreads thy horrid reign,
Enlivening Hope and fond Desire Resign the heart to Spleen and Care;
Scarce frighted Love maintains her fire, And Rapture saddens to despair.
In groundless hope, and causeless fear,
Still changing with the changeful year,
Tir'd with vain joys, and false alarms,
How cheerful along the gay mead The daisy and cowslip appear, The flocks as they carelessly feed, Rejoice in the spring of the year; The myrtles that shade the gay bow'rs, The herbage that springs from the sod, Trees, plants, cooling fruits, and sweet flow’rs, * All rise to the praise of my God.
Shall man, the great master of all,
THE MISER AND PLUTUS.
The wind was high, the window shakes,
Had the deep earth her stores confin'd, This heart had known sweet peace of mind. But virtue's sold. Good gods! what price Can recompense the pangs of vice! O bane of good! seducing cheat! Can man, weak man, thy pow'r defeat? Gold banish'd honour from the mind, And only left the name behind; Gold sow'd the world with ev'ry ill; Gold taught the murd'rer's sword to kill: