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Hopeless immortals' how they scream and shiver,

While devils push them to the pit wide yawning,

Hideous and gloomy, to receive them headlong Down to the centre.

Stop here my fancy: (all away ye horrid

Doleful ideas') come arise to Jesus,

How he sits God-like: and the saints around him Thron’d, yet adoring!

O may I sit there when he comes triumphant,

Dooming the nations! then ascend to glory,

While our Hosannas all along the passage
Shout the Redeemer.



It was a brave attempt! advent'rous he
Who in the first ship broke the unknown sea;
And leaving his dear native shores behind,
Trusted holife to the licentious wind.

He on a pine-plank rides across the waves, Exulting on the edge of thousand gaping graves: He steers the winged boat, and shifts the sails, Conquers the floods, and manages the gales. Such is the soul that leaves this mortal land Fearless, when the great Master gives command. Death is the storm: she smiles to hear it roar, And bids the tempest wast her from the shore: Then with a skilful helm she sweeps the seas, And manages the raging storm with ease; (Herfaith can govern Death) she spreads her wings :

I see the surging brine: the tempest raves, !

Wide to the wind, and as she sails she sings,
And loses by degrees the sight of mortal things.
As the shores lessen, so her joys arise,
The waves roll gentler, and the tempest dies:
Now vast eternity fills all her sight;
She floats on the broad deep with infinitedelight,
The seas for ever calm, the skies for ever :

-- --------



Sweet Muse, descend and bless the shade,
And bless the ev'ning grove;

Bus'ness and noise and day are fled,
And ev'ry care but love.

But hence, ye wanton young and fair,
Mine is a purer flame;

No Phillis shall infect the air
With her unhallow'd name.

Jesus has all my pow'rs possest,
My hopes, my fears, my joys:

He, the dear Sov’reign of my breast,
Shall still command my voice.

Some of the fairest choirs above
Shall floek around my song

With joy, to hear the name they love,
Sound from a mortal tongue.

His charms shall make my numbers flow,
And hold the falling floods, -
While silence sits on ev'ry bough,
And bends the list'ning woods.

I'll carve our passion on the bark,
And ev'ry wounded tree

Shall drop and bear some mystic mark
That Jesus dy'd for me. ,

The swains shall wonder when they read
Inscrib'd on all the grove,

That Heav'n itself came down, and bled
To win a mortal's love.

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THERON among his travels found : A broken statue on the ground; And searching onward as he went, He trac'd a ruin’d monument. Mould, moss, and shades, had overgrown' The sculpture of the crumbling stone,

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• In turning the dull Stoics o'er:
Let pedants waste their hours of ease
To sweat all night at Socrates; -

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To cure ambition: I can learn

With greater ease the great concern “Of mortals; how we may despise “ All the gay things below the skies.

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“ Methinks a mould'ring pyramid Says all that the old sages said: For me, these shatter'd tombs contain. More morals than the Vatican. * The dust of heroes cast abroad, • And kick'd and trampled in the road, “ The relics of a lofty mind, “That lately wars and crowns design'd, “ Tost for a jest from wind to wind, “ Bid me be humble, and forbear Tall monuments of fame to rear, “ They are but castles in the air.

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And feed their boys with notes and rules,

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