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COMPOSED ON THE BANKS OF CONODO

GUINET.

WHILE, underneath this salutary shade,
My hands perform their duty, O, my mind,
Be not inactive; let it not be said,

A spark from heav'n, to sloth should be inclin'd!

Remember thy illustrious descent;

And who first kindled this immortal flame : Thus upwards ever should thy thoughts be bent, Toward the eternal source from whence you

came.

These hands with soap and water strive to clear
Those outward robes from each polluting stain,
Sure, then, the soul demands superior care;
Shall it unwash'd, unpurified, remain !

For it a fount is op'd, whose crimson stream
Effects this glorious, this important end;
To this with speed apply, nor vainly dream
Of other aid on this you may depend.

ON THE DEATH OF MY FATHER'S SISTERS,

WHO DIED WITHIN ONE WEEK OF EACH

OTHER IN TWO PARTS.

PART FIRST.

WHILE shallow riv'lets bubble as they flow, The deeper stream glides silently along;

'Twas thus through life, avoiding outward

show,

She pass'd, unnoticed by the busy throng;
But valued much by the discerning few,
Who knew, and could appreciate her worth.
Strong were her intellects, her heart was true;
But all these gifts were shaded while on earth:

Through life she labor'd under such restraint,
She neither look'd nor spoke up to her mind ;
But when the hidden fountain found a vent,
Her converse was both solid and refin'd.
In all the trials of this changeful life,

Her patience was invariably strong;

For had her mind been tost with jarring strife, Her fragile frame had hardly stood so long.

H

But now relieved from its house of clay, Her soul, I trust, finds room to exercise;

And mounting upwards to the realms of day, Assumes its proper figure, shape, and size.

PART SECOND.

OH! give a broader channel to our tears!
Now fond regret is mix'd with anxious fears;
One sister rising on the wings of day,

The other's spirit strives to get away
From its poor shatter'd tenement, which wears
Indubitable marks of age and cares :
Well-order'd cares; for in a widow'd state,
Her faithful heart ne'er sought a second mate;
But on her children fix'd its fond regard,
And in their duty found a sweet reward.
She, for the space of more than thirty years,
In this endearing character appears:
Now full of days, surrounded by her friends
And weeping offspring, her last conflict ends.

To MY SISTER.

WHATEVER could in infancy engage,
Or promise comfort from her riper age,
Was sweetly blended in the form and mind
Of her you lately to the grave consign'd:
Gay as the birds, which hop from bough to bough;
Lovely and innocent, as aught below.

How just and clear her first ideas rise!

Ev'n strangers mark her with a fond surprise:
Docile, as young, but wise above her years,
She for a moment shines, and disappears.
With gratitude thy maker's bounty trace;
A new Maria fills the vacant place :

May this sweet babe renew thy wither'd joy,
And with her sister in her temper vie.

In her young mind the seeds of knowledge sow;
Whate'er is good let her be taught to know;
Knowledge of evil of itself will grow.
Our general mother this too dearly bought;
In this, alas! we're all too fully taught!

Oh! precious babe, for thee my bosom warms
With pleasing hopes, and beats with fond alarms!
May God himself instruct thee, how to choose,
To love the good, the evil to refuse :
Preserve thee, till thy earthly trial's past,
And bring thee safely to himself at last.
Hail! highly-honour'd! for to thee is given
To train up children for the King of heaven.
Yet know thy post is dangerous-thus it stands :
Lost through neglect-then surely at thy hands
Their blood shall be requir'd-an awful thought!
'Tis strange that this should ever be forgot;
'Tis strange, so many should unfaithful prove,
Impell❜d at once by fear, and drawn by love.
Some tender mothers, that their girls may charm,
In zeal to polish quite forget to form :
The very toyman can't proceed so fast;
His mimic fair receive their varnish last:
But these, enamour'd of external grace,
Give it the first, the last, the middle place;
They vainly decorate an empty case,
Or worse than empty; for the busy mind,
Or bad, or good, must some materials find
To fill imagination, memory, thought:
And can a child select them as it ought?

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