But what avail her unexhausted stores,
Her blooming mountains, and her sunny shores,
With all the gifts that heav'n and earth impart,
The smiles of nature, and the charms of art,
While proud oppression in her valleys reigns,
And tyranry usurps her happy plains?
The poor inhabitant beholds in vain

The redd'ning orange, and the swelling grain;
Joyless he sees the growing oils and wines,
And in the myrtle's fragrant shade, repines.
2 Oh, Liberty, thou pow'r supremely bright,
Profuse of bliss, and pregnant with delight!
Perpetual pleasures in thy presence reign;
And smiling plenty leads thy wanton train.
Eas'd of her load, subjection grows more light;
And poverty looks cheerful in thy sight.
Thou mak'st the gloomy face of nature gay;
Giv'st beauty to the sun, and pleasure to the day.
On foreign mountains may the sun refine
The grape's soft juice, and mellow it to wine;
With citron groves adorn a distant soil,
And the fat olive swell with floods of oil:
We envy not the warmer clime that lies
In ten degrees of more indulgent skies;
Nor at the coarseness of our heav'n repine,
Tho' o'er our heads the frozen Pleiads shine:
'Tis Liberty that owns Britannia's isle,

[smile.

And makes her barren rocks, and her bleak mountains

SECTION VI.

Charity. A Paraphrase on the 13th Chapter of the First
Epistle to the Corinthians.

DID sweeter sounds adorn my flowing tongue,
Than ever man pronounc'd, or angel sung;
Had I all knowledge, human and divine,
That thought can reach, or science can define;
And had I pow'r to give that knowledge birth,
In all the speeches of the babbling earth;
Did Shadrach's zeal my glowing breast inspire,
To weary tortures, and rejoice in fire;
Or had I faith like that which Israel saw,
When Moses gave them miracles, and law:
Yet, gracious charity, indulgent guest,
Were not thy power exerted in my breast;

Those speeches would send up unheeded pray'r;
That scorn of life would be but wild despair:
A cymbal's sound were better than my voice ;
My faith were form; my eloquence were noise.
2 Charity, decent, modest, easy, kind,

Softens the high, and rears the abject mind;
Knows with just reins, and gentle hand, to guide
Betwixt vile shame, and arbitrary pride.
Not soon provok'd, she easily forgives;
And much she suffers, as she much believes.
Soft peace she brings wherever she arrives ;
She builds our quiet as she forms our lives;
Lays the rough paths of peevish nature even;
And opens in each heart a little heav'n.

3 Each other gift, which God on man bestows,
Its proper bounds, and due restriction knows;
To one fix'd purpose dedicates its pow'r,
And finishing its act, exists no more.
Thus, in obedience to what Heav'n decrees,
Knowledge shall fail, and prophecy shall cease;
But lasting charity's more ample sway,
Nor bound by time, nor subject to decay,
In happy triumph shall for ever live ;

And endless good diffuse, and endless praise receive.

4 As through the artist's intervening glass,

Our eye observes the distant planets pass;

A little we discover; but allow,

That more remains unseen, than art can show;
So whilst our mind its knowledge would improve,
(Its feeble eye intent on things above,)
High as we may, we lift our reason up,
By faith directed, and confirm'd by hope;
Yet we are able only to survey,

Dawnings of beans, and promises of day;
Heav'n's fuller effluence mocks our dazzled sight;
Too great its swiftness, and too strong its light.
5 But soon the mediate clouds shall be dispell'd;
The sun shall soon be face to face beheld,
In all his robes, with all his glory on,

Seated sublime on his meridian throne.
Then constant Faith, and holy Hope, shall die;
One lost in certainty, and one in joy:

Whilst thou, more happy pow'r, fair Charity,
Triumphant sister, greatest of the three,

Thy office, and thy nature still the same,
Lasting thy lamp, and unconsum'd thy flame,
Shalt still survive-

Shalt stand before the hosts of heav'n confest,
For ever blessing, and for ever blest.—PRIOR.
SECTION VII.

Picture of a Good Man.

SOME angel guide my pencil, while I draw,
What nothing else than angel can exceed,
A man on earth devoted to the skies;
Like ships at sea, while in, above the world.
With aspect mild, and elevated eye,
Behold him seated on a mount serene,
Above the fogs of sense, and passion's storm;
All the black cares, and tumults of this life,
Like harmless thunders, breaking at his feet,
Excite his pity, not impair his peace.

2 Earth's genuine sons, the sceptred, and the slave,
A mingled mob! a wand'ring herd! he sees,
Bewilder'd in the vale; in all unlike!
His full reverse in all! What higher praise?
What stronger demonstration of the right?
The present all their care; the future his.
When public welfare calls, or private want,
They give to fame; his bounty he conceals.
Their virtues varnish nature; his exalt.
Mankind's esteem they court; and he his own.
3 Theirs the wild chase of false felicities ;
His, the compos'd possession of the true.
Alike throughout is his consistent piece,
All of one colour, and an even thread;
While party-colour'd shades of happiness,
With hideous gaps between, patch up for them
A madman's robe; each puff of fortune blows
The tatters by, and shows their nakedness.
4 He sees with other eyes than theirs; where they
Behold a sun, he 'spies a Deity;

What makes them only smile, makes him adore.
Where they see mountains, he but atoms sees;
An empire in his balance, weighs a grain.
They things terrestrial worship, as divine;
His hopes immortal blow them by, as dust,
That dims his sight and shortens his survey,
Which longs, in infinite, to lose all bound.

Titles and honours (if they prove his fate)
He lays aside to find his dignity;
No dignity they find in aught besides.
They triumph in, externals, (which conceal
Man's real glory,) proud of an eclipse:
Himself too much he prizes to be proud;
And nothing thinks so great in man, as man.
Too dear he holds his int'rest to neglect
Another's welfare, or his right invade;
Their int'rest, like a lion, lives on prey.
6 They kindle at the shadow of a wrong;
Wrong he sustains with temper, looks on heav'n,
Nor stoops to think his injurer his foe:

Nought, but what wounds his virtue, wounds his peace. A cover'd heart their character defends; A cover'd heart denies him half his praise. 7 With nakedness his innocence agrees! While their broad foliage testifies their fall! Their no joys end, where his full feast begins: His joys create, theirs murder, future bliss. To triumph in existence, his alone; And his alone triumphantly to think

His true existence is not yet begun.

His glorious course was, yesterday, complete:
Death, then, was welcome; yet life still is sweet.-YOUNG
SECTION VIII.

The pleasures of Retirement.

O KNEW he but his happiness, of men
The happiest he! who, far from public rage,
Deep in the vale, with a choice few retir'd,
Drinks the pure pleasures of the rural life.
2 What tho' the dome be wanting, whose proud gate
Each morning, vomits out the sneaking crowd
Of flatterers false, and in their turn abus'd?
Vile intercourse! What though the glitt'ring robe,
Of ev'ry hue reflected light can give,

Or floated loose, or stiff with mazy gold,
The pride and gaze of fools, oppress him not?
What tho', from utmost land and sea purvey'd,
For him each rarer tributary life

Bleeds not, and his insatiate table heaps
With luxury, and death? What tho' his bowl
Flames not with costly juice; nor sunk in beds
Oft of gay care, he tosses out the night,

Or melts the thoughtless hours in idle state?
What tho' he knows not those fantastic joys,
That still amuse the wanton, still deceive;
A face of pleasure, but a heart of pain;
Their hollow moments undelighted all?
Sure peace is his; a solid life estrang'd
To disappointment and fallacious hope.
3 Rich in content, in nature's bounty rich,

In herbs and fruits; whatever greens the spring,
When heaven descends in showers; or bends the bough
When summer reddens, and when autumn beams :
Or in the wintry glebe whatever lies

Conceal'd, and fattens with the richest sap:
These are not wanting; nor the milky drove,
Luxuriant spread o'er all the lowing vale;
Nor bleating mountains; nor the chide of streams,
And hum of bees, inviting sleep sincere
Into the guiltless breast, beneath the shade,
Or thrown at large amid the fragrant hay;
Nor aught besides of prospect, grove, or song,
Dim grottos, gleaming lakes, and fountains clear.
4 Here too dwells simple truth; plain innocence ;
Unsullied beauty; sound unbroken youth,
Patient of labour, with a little pleas'd;
Health ever blooming; unambitious toil;
Calm contemplation, and poetic ease.—THOMSON.
SECTION IX.

The Pleasure and Benefit of an improved and well-directed
Imagination.

OH! blest of Heav'n, who not the languid songs
Of luxury, the siren! not the bribes

Of sordid wealth, nor all the gaudy spoils

Of pageant Honour, can seduce to leave

Those ever-blooming sweets, which, from the store

Of nature, fair imagination culls,

To charm th' enliven'd soul! What tho' not all.
Of mortal offspring can attain the height
Of envied life; tho' only few possess
Patrician treasures, or imperial state;
Yet nature's care, to all her children just,
With richer treasures, and an ampler state
Endows at large whatever happy man
Will deign to use them.

The rural honours his.

His the city's pomp.
Whate'er adorns