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If the foft hand of winning pleafure leads By living waters, and through flow'ry meads. When all is fmiliog, tranquil, and ferene, And vernal beauty paints the flatting fcene, Oh! teach me to elude each latent fnare, And whifper to my fliding heart—beware! With caution let me hear the Syren's voice, And doubtful, with a trembling heart, rejoice. If friendless in a vale of tears I stray, Where briars wound, and thorns perplex my way, Still let my steady foul thy goodnefs fee, And with strong considence lay hold on thee; With equal eye my various lot receive, • ResignM to die, or refolute to live; Prepar'd to kifs the fceptre or the rod, While God is feen in all, and all in God.

I read his awful name emblazon'd high With golden letters on the illuminM /ky; Nor lefs the m\ siic characters I fee Wrought in each flow'ry inscrib'd on ev'ry tree i In ev'ry leaf that trembles to the breeze I hear the voire of God among the trees; With thee io lhady folitudes I walk, With thee in bufy crowded cities talk 5 In ev'ry creature own thy forming pow'r, In each event thy piovidence adore. Thy hopes shall animate my drooping foul, Thy precepts guide me, and thy fear conlroul. Thus (hall I itst, unmot'd by all alarms, Secure within the temple of thine arms, From anxious cares, fiom gloomy terrors free, And feel myfelf omnipotent iu thee.

Then when the last, the closing hour draws nigh,
And earth recedes before my fwimming eye;
When trembling on the doubtful edge of fate
J stand, and stretch my view to either state;
Teach me to quit this transitory fcene
With decent triumph and a look ferene;
Teach me to six my ardent hopes on high,
And, having livM to thee, in thee to die.

ODE,

TO CONTENT.

© Thou, the Nymph with placid eye!
O feldom found, yet ever nigh!

Receive my temperate vow:
Not all the storms that shake the pole
Can e'er disturb thy halcyon foul,

And fmooth unalter'd brow.
O come, in fimplest vest array'd,
With all thy fober cheer tlifplay'd,

To blefs my longing sight;
Thy mien compos'd, thy even pace,
Thy meek regard, thy matron grace.

And chaste fubdu'd delight.

No more by varying pastions beat,
O gently guide my pilgrim feet

To sind thy hermit cell;
Where in fome pure and equal sky
Beneath thy foft indulgent eye

The modest Virtues dwell.

J.

Simplicity in Attic vest,
And Innocence with candid breast

And clear undaunted eye;
And Hope who points to distant years,
Fair op'ning thro' this vale of tears
A vista to the Iky.

There Health, thro' whofe calm bosom
The temperate joys in even tide,

That rarely ebb or flow;
And Patience there, thy sister meek,
Prefents her mild unvarying cheek

To meet the offer'd blow.

Her influence taught the Phrygian fage
A tyrant master's wanton rage

With fettled fmiles to meet;
Inur'd to toil and bitter bread,
He bow'd his meek fubmitted head,

And kifs'd thy fainted feet.
But thou, O nymph, retir'd and coy!
In what brown hamlet dost thou joy

To tell thy tender tale?
The lowliest children of the ground,
Moss-rofe and violet blossom round,

And lily-of-the-vale.

0 fay, what foft propitious hour

1 best may choofe to hail thy power,

And court thy gentle fway? When Autumn, friendly to the Mufe, Shall thy own modest tints diffufe,

And flicd thy milder day.

When Eve, her dewy star beneath,
Thy balmy fpirit loves to breathe,

And every storm is laid;
If fuch an hour was earthy choice,
Oft let me hear thy foothing voice

Low whifpering through the lhade.

MBS. C. SMITH.

SONNET.

TL HE partial Mufe has from my earliest hours

Smil'd on the rugged path I'm doom'd to tread, And still with fportive hand has fnatch'd wild flowers,

To weave fantastic garlands for my head: But far, far happier is the lot of thofe

Who never Iearn'd her dear delusive art; Which, while it decks the head with many a rofe.

Referves the thorn, to fester in the heart. For still she bids foft Pity's melting eye

Stream o'er the ills me knows not to remove; Points every pang, and deepens every sigh

Of mourning friendlhip, or unhappy love. Ah ! then, how dear the Mufe's favours cost, If thofe paint forrow best—who feel it most!

SONNET,

ON THE DEPARTURE OF THE NIGHT-
INGALE.

Sweet poet of the wood—a long adieu!
Farewel, foft minstrel of the early year!

Ah! 'twill he long ere thou shalt sing anew,

And pout thy music on the " night's dull ear." Whether on fpring thy wand'ring flights await,

Or whether silent in our groves you dwell. The pensive mufe shall own thee for her mate,

And still protect the fong she love;fo well. With cautious step, the love-lawn youth shall glide

Thro' the lone hrake that shades thy molTy nest; And Ihepherd girls, from eyes profane, wall hide

The gentle hird, who sings of pity hest; For still thy voice shall foft affections move, And still he dear to forrow, and to love!

SONNET,

TO THE RIVER ARUN.

Be the proud Thames, of trade the hufy mart j

Arun! to thee will other praife helong;
Dear to the lover's and the mourner's heart,

And ever facred to the fons of fong!
Thy hanks romantic, hopelefs love fhall feck,

Where o'er the rocks the mantling hind with flaunt]; And forrow's drooping form and faded cheek,

Choofe on thy willowed shore her lonely haunts! Banks ! which infpir'd thy Otway's plaintive strain!

Wilds! whofe lorn echoes learn'd the deeper tone Of Collins' powerful shell! yet once again

Another poet—Hayley is thine own! Thy classic stream anew shall hear a lay, Bright as its waves, and various as its way I

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