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When soft on bending oziers laid
The broad sun treinbling through the bed;
All wild thy heav'n-rapt fancy strays,
Led through th' foul-diffolving niaze ;
Till Slumber, duwny-pinion'd, near
Plants her strong fetlocks on thy ear ;
The foul unfetter'd bursts away,
And basks enlarg'd in beamy day.

ODE,
TO INNOCENCE.

TWAS when the flow declining ray Had ting'd the cloud with ev'ning gold; No warbler pour’d the melting lay, No found disturb’d the sceping fold, When by a murmuring rill reclin’d, Sat wrapt in thought a wand'ring Twain ; Calm Peace compos'd his musing mind; And thus he rais'd the flowing strain : “ Hail, Innocence! celestial maid !. “What joys thy blushing charms reveal! Sweet as the arbor's cooling fhade, “ And milder than the vernal gale.

6 On thee attends a radiant choir, “ Soft-smiling Peace, and downy Rest; " With Love, that prompts the warbling lyre ; " And Hope, that foothes the throbbing breast, « O fent from hear's to kaant the grove, * Where fqqinting Envy ne'er can come! « Nor pines the cheek with lockless love, « Nor anguish chills the living bloom. “ Bat spotless beauty, robid in white, « Sits on yonder moss-groen hill reclin'd; “ Serene as heaven's unfully'd light, « And pare as Delia's gentle mind. a Grant, heavenly pow'r! thy peaceful sway “ May ftill my ruder thoughts controul; Thy hand to point my dubious way, “ Thy voice to foothe the melting foul. “ Far in the shady sweet retreat “ Let Thought beguile the ling‘ring hour; “ Let Quiet court the mossy feat, “ And twining olives form the bow's. “ Let dove-ey'd Peace her wreath bestow, “ And oft fit listening in the dale, " While Night's sweet warbler from the bough “ Tells to the grove her plaintive tale. " Soft as in Delia's snowy breaft, “ Let each consenting passion move; " Let angels watch its filent rest, * And all its blissful beams be Loyc!"

MISS CARTER..

CONTEMPLATION.

W HILE soft through water, earth and air,.

The vernal spirits rove,
From noisy joys, and giddy crowds,

To rural scenes remove.
The mountain snows are all diffolv'd,

And hush'd the blust'ring gale :
While fragrant Zephyrs gently breathe

Along the flow'ry vale.
The circling planets constant rounds

The wint'ry wastes repair;
And still from temporary death,

Renew the verdant year.
But ah! when once our transient bloom,

The spring of life, is o’er,
That rosy season takes its flight,

And must return no inore.
Yet judge by reason's sober rules,

From false opinion free,
And mark how little pilf'ring years

Can steal from you or me.
Each moral pleasure of the heart,

Each lasting charm of truth,
Depends not on the giddy aid

Of wild inconstant youth.

The vain coquet, whose empty pride

A fading face supplies,
May juftly dread the wintry gloom,

Where all its glory dies.
Leave such a ruin to deplore,

To fading forms confind: Nor age nor wrinkles discompofe

One feature of the mind.
Amidtt the universal change

Unconscious of decay,
It views, unmoy'd, the fithe of Time

Sweep all besides away.
Fix'd on its own eternal frame,

Eternal are its joys :
While, borne on transitory wings,

Each mortal pleasure flies,
While ev'ry short-liv'd flow'r of sense

Destructive years consume,
Through Friendship’s fair enchanting walks

Unfading myrtles bloom.
Nor with the narrow bounds of time

The beauteous prospect ends,
But, lengthen'd through the vale of death,

To Paradise extends.

A NIGHT-PIECE. W HILE Night in folemn shade invests the pole, And calm reflection foothes the pensive soul ; While reason undifturh'd afferts her sway, Aod life's deceitful colours fade away;

To thee, All-conscious-presence! I devote
This peaceful interval of sober thought :
Here all my better faculties confine;
And be this hour of facred silence thine!

If, by the day's illusive scenes mined,
My erring soul from virtue's path has ftray'd ;
Snar'd by example, or by passion warm’d,
Some false delight my giddy sense has charm’d;
My calmer thoughts the wretched choice reprove,
And my best hopes are center'd in thy love.
Depriv'd of this, cap life one joy afford ?
Its utmost boast, a vaid unmeaning word.

But, ah ! how oft my lawless passions rove, And break those awful precepts I approve! Pursue the fatal impulse 1 abhor, And violate the virtue I adore! Oft, when thy better Spirit's guardian care Warn’d my fond foul to thun the tempting snare, My stubborn will his gentle aid repress’d, And check'd the rising goodness in my breast; Mad with vain liopes, or urg'd by false defires, Stillid his soft voice, and quench'd his facred fires.

With grief oppress’d, and proftrate in the dust, Shouldīt thou condemn, I own the sentence jutt.. But, oh, thy softer titles let me claim, And plead my canse by mercy's gentle name. Mercy! that whipes the penitential tear, And dissipates the horrors of despair; From vigorous justice steals the vengeful hour, Soltens the dreadful attribute of pow's, Dilarms the wrath of an offended God, And seals my pardon in a Saviour's blood |

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