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Just estimatiou priz'd above all price ;
I had much rather be myself the slave,
And wear the bouds, than fasten them on him.
We have no slaves at home: then why abroad?
And they' themselves, once ferried o'er the wave
That parts us, are emancipate and loos’d.
Slaves cannot breathe in England : if their lungs
Receive our air, that moment they are free ;
They touch our country, and their shackles fall.
That's noble, and bespeaks a nation proud
And jealous of the blessing. Spread it then,
And let it circulate through ev'ry vein
Of all your empire ; that where Britain's power
Is felt, mankind may feel her mercy too.
The Morning in Summer. THE meek ey'd morn appears, mother of dews. At first faint gleaming in the dappled east ; Till far o'er ether spreads the wid'nins glow ; And from before the lustre of her face White break the clouds away. With quicker'd step: Brown night retires : young day pour's in apače, And opens all the lawny prospect wide. The dripping rook, the monut ain's misty top, Swell on the sight, and brighten with the dawn. Blue, through the dusk, the smoking currents shine; And from the bladed field the fearful hare Limps, awkward : while along the forest glade The wild deer trip, and often turning gaze At early passenger. Music awakes The native voice of undissembled joy ; And thick around the woodland hymns arisé. Rous'd by the cock, the soon clad shepherú leaves flis mossy cottage, where with peace he dwells; And from the crowded fold, in order, drives His flock to taste the verdure of the morn. Falsely Inxurious, will not man awake ; Aud, sprivging from the bed of sloth, enjoy
The cool, the fragrant, and the silent hour,
To meditation due and sacred song ?
For is there aught in sleep can charm the wise :
To lie in dead oblivion, losing half
The fleeting moments of too short a life;
Total extinctiotr of the enlightened soul!
Or else to feverish vanity alive,
Wilder'd, and tossing thro' distempered dreams :
Who would in such a gloomy státe remain
Longer than nature craves ; when ev'ry muse
And ev'ry blooming pleasure waits withont,
To bless the wildly devious morning walk ?
Rural Sounds, as well as Rural Sights, delightful.
Nor rural sights alone, but rural sounds
Exhilarate the spirit, and restore
The tone of languid nature. Mighty winds,
That sweep the skirt of some far spreading wood
Of ancient growth, make music, not unlike
The dash of ocean on his winding shore,
And lull the spirit while they fill the mind,
Unnumbered branches waving in the blast,
And all their leaves fast flutt'ring all at once.
Nor less composure waits upon the roar
Of distant floods ; or on the softer voice
Of neighb’ring fountain ; or of rills that slip
Through the cleft rock, and, chiming as they falt
Upon loose pebbles, lose themselves at length
In matted grass, that, with a livelier green,
Betrays the secret of their silent course.
Nature inanimate employs sweet sounds,
But animated nature sweeter still,
To sooth and satisfy the human ear.
Ten thousand warblers eleer the day, and one
The live long night. Nor these alone, whose notes
Nice fingered art must emulate in vain,
But cawing rooks, and kites that swim sublime,
In still repeated eirelts, screaming loud,
The jay, the pye, and ev’n the boding owl
'That hails the rising inoon, have charins for me.
Sounds inharmonious in themselves, and harsh,
Yet heard in scenes where peace forever reigns,
And only there, please bighly for their sake.
Th The rose had been wash’d, lately wash'd in a shower, By
Which Mary to Anna convey'd ;
A plentiful moisture encumber'd the flower,
And weigh’ıl down its beautiful head.
The cup was all fill'd, and the leaves were all wet,
10 And it seem'd to a fanciful view,
IC To weep for the buds it had left with regret,
On the flourishing bush where it grew. I hastily seiz'd it, unfit as it was
For a nosegay, so dripping and drown'd;
And swinging it rudely, too rudely, alas !
I snapp'd it; it fell to the ground.
And such, I exclaim’d, is the pitiless part,
Some act by the delicate mind,
Regardless of wringing and breaking a heart,
Already to sorrow resign'd.
This elegant rose, had I shaken it less,
Might have bloom'd with its owner awhile ;
And the tear that is wip'd with a little address,
May be follow'd perhaps by a smile.
Care of Birds for their Young
As thus the patient dam assiduous sits,
Not to be tempted from her tender task,
Or by sharp hunger, or by smooth delight,
Tho' the whole loosened spring around her blows,
Her sympathizing partner takes his stand
High on th’opponent bank, and ceaseless sings
The tedious time away; or else supplies
Her place a moment, while she sudden flits
'To pick the scanty meal. Ch’appointed time
With pionis toil fulfill'd, the callow young,
Warm'd and expanded into perfect life,
Their brittle bondage break, and come to light,
A helpless family, demandiag food
With constani clainour. O what passions then,
What melting sentiments of kindly care,
On the new parents seize ! Away they fly
Affectionate, and undesiring bear
he most delicious morsel to their
Which equally distributed, again
The search begins. Ev'n so a gentle pair,
By fortane sunk, but form’d of gen'rous mould,
And charm’d with eares beyond the vulgar breast,
In soine lone cot amid the distant woods,
Sustain'd alone by providential Heaven,
Oft, as they, weeping, eye their infant train,
Check their own appetites, and give them all.
Liberty and Slavery contrasted. Part of a letter written frona
Italy by Addison.
How has kind Heav'n adora'd this happy land,
And scatter'd blessings with a liberal hand!
But what arail 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 vallies reigns,
And tyranny usurps her happy plains ?
The poor inhabitant beholds in vain
The reddning orange, and the swelling grain ;
Joyless he sees the growing oils and wines,
And in the myrtle's fragrant shade repines.
0, 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, inay the so refine
The grape's soft juice, and mellow it to wine;
With citron groves adorn à distant soil,
And the fat olive swell with floods of oil ;
We envy not the warmer clime, that lies
In ten degrees of inore indulgent skies ;
Nor at the coarseness of our heav'n repine,
Tho'o'er our heads the frozen Pleiads shine :
'Tis Liberty that crowns Britannia's isle,
And makes her barren rocks, and her bleak mountains
Charity. I Paraphrase on the thirteenth Chapter of the first
Epistle to the Corinthians.
Did sweeter sounds adorn my flowing tongue,
Than ever man pronounc’d, or angels sang;
Had I all knowledge, human and divine,
That thought can reach, or science can define ;
And had I power 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 prayer :
That scorn of life would be but wild despair;
A cymbal's gound were better than my voice;
My faith were form ; my eloquence were noise.
Charity, decent, modest, easy, kind,
Softens the bigh, and rears the abject mind ;
Knows with just reins, and gentle hand, to guide
Betwist 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 ;
Anıl opens in each heart a little heaven.
Each other gift which God on man bestows, Its proper bounds, and due restriction knows; fix'd purpose
dedicates its power ;
And finishing its act, exists no more.
Thus, in oberience to what Heav'n decrees,
Knowledge shall fail, and propheey shall cease.
But lasting eharity's more ample sway,
Nor bound by time, nor subject to decay,
In happy triumph shall forever live;
And endless good diffuse, and endless praise receiver
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;