'Tis gentle, delicate, and kind,
To faults compassionate, or blind;
And will with fympathy endure
Thofe evils it would gladly cure.
But angry, coarse, and harsh exprefsion,
Shows love to be a mere profession;
Proves that the heart is none of his,
Or foon expels him if it is.
Swarms of flying infects.
yon ftream of light, a thousand ways, Upward and downward, thwarting and convolv'd The quiv'ring nations fport: till, tempeft-wing'd, Fierce winter sweeps them from the face of day. Ev'n fo, luxurious men, unheeding, pafs An idle fummer life, in Fortune's shine, A feafon's glitter! Thus they flutter on, From toy to toy, from vanity to vice; Till, blown away by Death, Oblivion comes Behind, and ftrikes them from the book of life.
Beneficence its own reward.
My fortune (for I'll mention all,
And more than you dare tell) is small;
Yet ev'ry friend partakes my ftore,
And Want goes finiling from my door.
Will forty fhillings warm the breaft
Of worth or industry distress'd?
This fum I cheerfully impart;
'Tis fourfcore pleasures to my heart:
And you may make, by means like thefe,
Five talents ten, whene'er you please.
'Tis true, my little purse grows light;
But then I fleep so sweet at night!
Virtue the best treasure.
Virtue, the ftrength and beau y of the foul,
Is the best gift of Heav'n: a ha¡ piness,
That, even above the smiles and frowns of fate,
Exalts great Nature's favourites: a wealth
That ne'er encumbers; nor to baser hands
Can be transferr'd. It is the only good
Man justly boasts of, or can call his own.
Riches are oft by guilt and baseness earn'd.
But for one end, one much neglected use,
Are riches worth our care; (for nature's wants
Are few, and without opulence fupplied ;)
This noble end is to produce the foul;.
To show the virtues in their fairest light;
And make humanity the minifter
Of bounteous Providence.
As yet 'tis midnight deep. The weary clouds,
Slow meeting, mingle into folid gloom.
Now, while the drowsy world lies loft in fleep,
Let me associate with the serious Night,
And Contemplation her fedate compeer;
Let me shake off th' intrusive cares of day,
And lay the meddling fenfes all afide.
Where now, ye lying vanities of life!
Ye ever tempting, ever cheating train!
Where are you now? and what is your amount?
Vexation, disappointment, and remorse.
Sad, fick'ning thought! And yet deluded man,
A fcene of crude disjointed vifions paft,
And broken slumbers, rises still resolv'd,
With new flush'd hopes, to run the giddy round.
Pleafures of Piety.
A Deity believ'd, is joy begun;
A Deity ador d, is joy advanc'd;
A Deity belov'd, is joy matur'd.
Each branch of piety delight infpires:
Faith builds a bridge from this world to the next, O'er Death's dark gulph, and all its horror hides; Praise, the sweet exhalation of our joy,
That joy exalts, and makes it sweeter still; Pray'r ardent opens heav'n, let's down a stream
Of glory, on the coníecrated hour
Of man in audience with the Deity.
two young Bears, in wanton mood, Forth ifsuing from a neighbouring wood, Came where th' industrious Bees had ftor'd, In artful cells, their luscious hoard; O'erjoy'd they seiz'd, with eager haste, Luxurious on the rich repast.
Alarm'd at this, the little crew
About their ears vindictive flew.
The beafts, unable to fuftain
Th' unequal combat, quit the plain;
Half-blind with rage, and mad with pain,
Their native fhelter they regain;
There fit, and now, discreeter grown,
Too late their rashness they bemoan;
And this by dear experience gain,
That pleasure's ever bought with pain.
So when the gilded baits of vice
Are plac'd before our longing eyes,
With greedy hafle we snatch our fill,
And fwallow down the latent ill;
But when experience opes our eyes,
Away the fancy'd pleasure flies.
It flies, but oh! too late we find,
It leaves a real sting behind.
The Nightingale and the Glow-worm.
A NIGHTINGALE, that all day long
Had cheer'd the village with his fong,
"Nor yet at eve his note suspended,
Nor yet when eventide was ended,
Began to feel, as well he might,
The keen demands of appetite;
When, looking eagerly around,
He fpied far off, upon the ground,
A fomething fhining in the dark,
And knew the glow-worm by his spark.
So, stooping down from hawthorn top,
He thought to put him in his crop.
The worm, aware of his intent,
Harangu'd him thus, right eloquent-
"Did you admire.my lamp," quoth he,
As much as I your minftrelfy,
"You would abhor to do me wrong,
"As much as I to fpoil your fong;
"For 'twas the felf-fame Pow'r Divine
"Taught you to fing, and me to shine;
That you with mufic, I with light,
"Might beautify and cheer the night."
The fongfter heard his fhort oration,
And, warbling out his approbation,
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