When Eve, her dewy ftar beneath,
Thy balmy spirit loves to breathe,
And ev'ry form is laid?
If fuch an hour was e'er thy choice,
Oft let me hear thy foothing voice,
Low whifp'ring through the fhade.
The Shepherd and the Philofopher.
REMOTE from cities liv'd a fwain,
Unvex'd with all the cares of gain;
His head was filver'd o'er with age,
And long experience made him fage;
In fummer's heat and winter's cold,
He fed his flock and penn'd the fold;
His hours in cheerful labour flew,
Nor envy nor ambition knew:
His wifdom and his honest fame
Through all the country rais'd his name.
A deep philofopher (whofe rules
Of moral life were drawn from schools)
The shepherd's homely cottage fought,
And thus explor'd his reach of thought.
"Whence is thy learning? Hath thy toil
O'er books confum'd the midnight oil?
Haft thou old Greece and Rome furvey'd,
And the vaft fenfe of Plato weigh'd?
Hath Socrates thy foul refin'd,
And haft thou fathom'd Tully's mind?
Or, like the wife Ulysses, thrown,
By various fates, on realms unknown,
Haft thou through many cities ftray'd,
Their customs, laws, and manners weigh'd?"
The shepherd modeftly reply'd,
"I ne'er the paths of learning try'd;
Nor have I roam'd in foreign parts,
To read mankind, their laws and arts;.
For man is practis'd in difguife,
He cheats the most difcerning eyes.
Who by that search shall wifer grow?
By that ourselves we never know.
The little knowledge I have gain'd,
Was all from fimple Nature drain'd;
Hence my life's maxims took their rife,
Hence grew my fettled hate to vice.
The daily labours of the bee
Awake my foul to industry.
Who can obferve, the careful ant,
And not provide for future want?
My dog (the truftieft of his kind))
With gratitude inflames my mind::
I mark his true, his faithful way,
And in my fervice copy Tray.
In conftancy and nuptial love,
I learn my duty from the dove.
The hen, who from the chilly air,.
With pious wing, protects her care,
And ev'ry fowl that flies at large,
Inftructs me in a parent's charge.
"From Nature too I take my rule,
To fhun contempt and ridicule.
I never, with important air,
In converfation overbear.
Can grave and formal pafs for wife,
When men the folemn owl despise?
My tongue within my lips I rein;
For who talks much must talk in vain.
We from the wordy torrent fly:
Who liftens to the chatt'ring pye?
Nor would I, with felonious flight,
By stealth invade my neighbour's right:
Rapacious animals we hate;
Kites, hawks, and wolves, deferve their fate.
Do not we just abhorrence find
Against the toad and ferpent kind?
But envy, calumny, and spite,
Bear stronger venom in their bite.
Thus ev'ry object of creation
Can furnish hints to contemplation;
And, from the most minute and mean,
A virtuous mind can morals glean."
"Thy fame is juft," the fage replies;
"Thy virtue proves thee truly wife.
Pride often guides the author's pen,
Books as affected are as men :
But he who ftudies Nature's laws,
From certain truth his maxims draws;
And thofe, without our schools, fuffice
To make men moral, good, and wise."
The road to Happiness open to all Men:
OH Happiness! our being's end and aim!
Good, Pleasure, Eafe, Content! whate'er thy name;
That fomething ftill which prompts th' eternal figh,
For which we bear to live, or dare to die;
Which still so near us, yet beyond us lies,
O'erlook'd, feen double, by the fool and wife;
Plant of celeftial feed, if dropt below,
Say, in what mortal foil thou deign'it to grow?
Fair op'ning to fome court's propitious shine,
Or deep with di'monds in the flaming mine?
Twin'd with the wreaths Parnafsian laurels yield,
Or reap'd in iron harvefts of the field?
Where grows? where grows it not? if vain our toil,
We ought to blame the culture, not the foil.
Fix'd to no fpot is happinefs fincere,
'Tis no where to be found, or ev'ry where ;
'Tis never to be bought, but always free ;
And, fled from monarchs, St. John! dwells with thee.
Afk of the learn'd the way? The learn'd are blind;
This bids to ferve, and that to fhun mankind:
Some place the blifs in action, fome in ease,
Those call it pleasure, and contentment these :
Some funk to beafts, find pleafure end in pain;
Some fwell'd to gods, confefs evʼn virtue vain ;
Or indolent, to each extreme they fall,
To truft in ev'ry thing, or doubt of all.
Who thus define it, fay they more or lefs
Than this, that happiness is happiness ?
Take Nature's path, and mad Opinion's leave;
All states can reach it, and all heads conceive;
Obvious her goods, in no extreme they dwell;
There needs but thinking right, and meaning well;
And mourn our various portions as we pleafe,
Equal is Common Senfe, and Common Ease.
Remember, man, "the Universal Caufe "Acts not by partial, but by gen'ral laws;" And makes what happiness we juftly call Subfift not in the good of one, but all.
The Goodness of Providence.
THE Lord my pafture fhall prepare,
And feed me with a fhepherd's care;
His prefence fhall my wants fupply,
And guard me with a watchful eye ;.
My noon-day walks he fhall attend,.
And all my midnight hours defend.
When in the fultry glebe I faint,.
Or on the thirsty mountains pant;
To fertile vales, and dewy meads,
My weary wand'ring fteps he leads;
Where peaceful rivers, foft and flow,
Amid the verdant landscape flow.
Tho' in the paths of Death I tread,,
With gloomy horrors overspread,
My steadfast heart fhall fear no ill,
For thou, O Lord, art with me still;
Thy friendly crook shall give me aid,
And guide me through the dreadful shade.
Tho' in a bare and rugged way,
Through devious lonely wilds I ftray,
Thy bounty fhall my pains beguile;
The barren wilderness fhall fmile,
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