ON A SIMILAR OCCASION,

FOR THE YEAR 1789.

-Placidaque ibi demum morte quievit.

VIRG.

There calm at length he breath'd his soul away.

"O MOST delightful hour by man

"Experienc'd here below,

"The hour that terminates his span,

"His folly, and his wo!

"Worlds should not bribe me back to tread

Again life's dreary waste,

"To see again my day o'erspread "With all the gloomy past.

My home henceforth is in the skies;

"Earth, seas, and sun, adieu!

"All Heav'n unfolded to my eyes,

"I have no sight for you."

So spake Aspasio, firm possess'd
Of faith's supporting rod,

Then breath'd his soul into it's rest,
The bosom of his God.

He was a man among the few

Sincere on virtue's side;

And all his strength from Scripture drew To hourly use applied.

That rule he priz'd, by that he fear'd,
He hated, hop'd, and lov'd;

Nor ever frown'd, or sad appear'd,

But when his heart had rov'd.

For he was frail, as thou or I,

And evil felt within:

But, when he felt it, heav'd a sigh,
And loath'd the thought of sin.

Such liv'd Aspasio; and at last

Call'd up

from Earth to Heav'n,

The gulf of death triumphant pass'd,

By gales of blessing driv❜n.

His joys be mine, each Reader cries,

When my last hour arrives:

They shall be yours, my Verse replies,
Such only be your lives.

ON A SIMILAR OCCASION,

FOR THE YEAR 1790.

Ne commonentem recta sperne.

BUCHANAN.

Despise not my good counsel.

He who sits from day to day,
Where the prison'd lark is hung,
Heedless of his loudest lay,

Hardly knows that he has sung.

Where the watchman in his round
Nightly lifts his voice on high,
None, accustom'd to the sound,

Wakes the sooner for his cry.

So your verse-man I, and clerk,

Yearly in my song proclaim

Death at hand-yourselves his mark

And the foe's unerring aim.

Duly at my time I come,

Publishing to all aloud

Soon the grave must be your home,
And your only suit, a shroud.

But the monitory strain,

Oft repeated in your ears, Seems to sound too much in vain,

Wins no notice, wakes no fears.

Can a truth by all confess'd

Of such magnitude and weight, Grow, by being oft impress'd, Trivial as a parrot's prate?

Pleasure's call attention wins,

Hear it often as we may;

New as ever seem our sins,

Though committed ev'ry day.

Death and Judgment, Heav'n and HellThese alone, so often heard,

No more move us than the bell,

When some stranger is interr'd.

O then, ere the turf or tomb
Cover us from ev'ry eye,

Spirit of instruction come,

Make us learn, that we must die.