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ADAM'S DESCRIPTION OF HIS FIRST FEELINGS.
For man to tell how human life hegan
As new-wak'd from soundest sleep
ran Soon dried, and on the reeking moisture fed: Straight toward Heav'n my wond'ring eyes
I turn'd, And gaz'd awhile the ample sky, till rais'd By quick instinctive motion up I sprung, As thitherward endeavouring, and upright Stood on my feet; ahout me round I saw Hill, dale, and shady woods, and sunny
plains, And liquid lapse of murm'rlng streams; hy
these Creatures that liv'd and mov'd, or walk'd
or flew, Birds on the hranches warhling; all things
smil'd, With fragrance, and with joy my heart o'er
flow'd; Myself I then perus'd, and limh hy limh Survey'd, and sometimes went and sometimes ran With supple joints, as lively vigour led; But who I was, or where, or from what cause,
Knew not; to speak I tried, and forthwith
spake; My tongue oheyed, and readily could name Whate'er I saw. Thou Sun, said I, fair light, And thou enlighten'd Earth, so fresh and gay, Ye hills, and dales, ye rivers, woods, and
plains, And yethat live and move, fair creatures tell, Tell, if ye saw, how came I thus, how here 1 Not of myself; hy some great Maker then, In goodness and in power pre-eminent: Tell me, how may I know him, how adore From whom I have, that thus I move and
live, And feel that I am happier than I know? While thus I call'd, and stray'd, I knew not
whither, From where I firstdrew air, and first heheld This happy light, when answer none return 'd, On a green shady hank profuse of flowers, Pensive I sat me down: there gentle Sleep First found me, and with soft oppression
seiz'd My drowsed sense, untrouhled, tho' I thought I then was passing to my former state Insensihle, and forthwith to dissolve: When suddenly stood at my head a Dream, Whose inward apparition gently mov'd My fancy to helieve I yet had heing, And liv'd: one came, me thought, of shape
divine, And said, thy mansion wants thee, Adam, rise.
ADAM AND EVE IN PARADISE.
Two of far nohler shape, erect and tall,
hroad; She as a veil, down to the slender waist Her nnadorned golden tresses wore Dishevel'd; hut in graceful ringlets wav'd, As the vine curls her tendrils, which imply'd Suhjection, hut requir'd with gentle sway; And hy her yielded, hy him hest receiv'd.
ADAM'S DESCRIPTION OF EVE,
She was adorn'd With what all Earth or Heaven could hestow To make her amiahle: on she came, Led hy her Heav'nly Maker, though unseen, And gnided hy his voice. * * * • * • • »
Grace was in all her steps, Heav'n in her
eye, In every gesture dignity and love.
THE FIRST TRANSGRESSION.
Say what cause Moved our first Parents in their happy
state, Favour'd of Heav'n so highly to fall oflf
From their Creator, and transgress his will For one restraint, lords of the world hesides f Who first sedue'd them to that foul revolt 1 Th' Infernal Serpent; he it was,whose guile, Stirr'd up with envy and revenge, deceWM The Mother of Mankind:— Her hand in evil
hour Forth reaching to the fruit, she pluck'd, she
ate: Earth felt the wound, and Nature from her
s,'at Sighing thro* all her works, gave signs of wo, That all was lost. • • * •
She gave to Adam that enticing fruit With liheral hand: He scrupled not to eat Against his hetter knowledge, not deceiv'd. Earth tremhled from her entrails, as again In pangs, and Nature gave a second groan, Sky low'rd, and muttering thunder, some
drops Wept at completing of the mortal sin Original. >
CHARACTER OF ADAM.
With him his nohlest sons might not com-
none, Was yet the meekest man heneath the sun. From sin, as from the serpent that hetray'd Eve's early innocence, he shrunk afraid;
Vice he rehuk'd with Bo austere a frown, He seem'd to hring an instant judgment
down; Yet while he chid, compunction's tears
would start, And yearning tenderness dissolve his heart; The guilt of all his race hecame his own, He suffer'd as if He had sinn'd alone. Within the glen to filial love endear'd, Ahroad for wisdom, truth, and justice fear'd, He walk'd so humhly in the sight of all, The vilest ne'er reproach'd him with his fall. Children were his delight;—they ran to
meet His soothing hand, and clasp'd his honour'd
feet; While 'midst their fearless sports supremely
hlest, He grew in heart a child among the rest: Yet as a parent, nought heneath the sky Touch'd him so quickly as an infant's eye; Joy from its smile of happiness he caught,— Its flash of rage sent horror through his
thought, His smitten conscience felt as fierce a pain— As if he fell from innocence again.
May'st thou know the gracious Donor; Early know, and love, and praise! Then shall real wealth and honour, Peace and pleasure crown thy days.
TO AN INFANT.
Can I hid thee, little stranger,
Hence away, ye dark surmises,
Oh, may Providence defend thee!
Shall I wish the world caressing? Wish thee pleasure, grandenr, wealth? No—hut many a nohler hlessing— Wisdom, virtue, friendship, health,
CAIN AND ADAH ON THE SIGHT OF THEIR SLEEPING INFANT.
Oor little Enoch sleeps upon yon hed
Of leaves, heneath the cypress,—,
• •»#• Its hranches
Shut out the sun like night, and therefore
seem Fitting to shadow slumher.
CAIN. How lovely he appears! his little cheeks, In their pure incarnation, vying with The rose leaves strewn heneath them.
And his lips, too,
You have said well; I will contain
My heart till then. He smiles, and sleeps!
—Sleep on And smile, thou little, young inheritor Of a world scarce less young: sleep on, and
smile I Thine are the hours and days when hoth
are cheering, And- innocent. * • * Sleep on!— His cheeks are reddening into deeper smiles, And shining lids are tremhling o'er his long Lashes, dark as the cypress which waves
o'er them; Half open, from heneath them the clear hine Laughs out, although in slumher.
TO A SLEEPING INFANT.
Art thon a thing of mortal hirth,
TO A CHILD.
Whose imp art thon, with dimpled cheek;
And curly pate, and merry eye, And arm and shoulders round and sleek,
And soft and fair, thou urchin sly 1
What hoots it who with sweet caresses,
For thou in every wight that passes,
Thy downcast glances, grave, hut en nning,
Thy shyness, swiftly from me running,
Bat far a-field thou hast not flown,
I feel thee pulling at my gown,—
And thou must laugh and wrestle too,—
To make as wily lovers do,
The wilding rose—sweet as thyself,—
I'd gladly part with worldly pelf
But yet, for all thy merry look.
Thy frisks and wiles, the time is coming, When thou shalt sit in cheerless nook, The weary spell, or horn-hook thumhing.
Well, let it he! Through weal and wo,
Life is a motley, shifting show :—
Childhood, happy stage of life!
Then to toss the circling hall,
Be it a weakness, it deserves some praise, We love the play-place of our early days;
The scene is touching, and the heart is stone That feels not at that sight, and feels at none. The wall on which we tried our graving skill, The very name we carved suhsisting still; The hench on which we sat while deep
employed, Tho' mangled, hacked, and hewed, not yet
destroyed: The little ones, unhuttoned, glowing hot, Playing our games, and on the very spot; As happy as we once, to kneel and draw The chalky ring, and knuckle down at taw; To pitch the hall into the grounded hat, Or drive it devious with a dexterous pat; The pleasing spectacle at once excites Such recollection of our own delights, That viewing it, we seem almost t" ohtain Our innocent, sweet simple years again.
TO MY SON.
Twice has the sun commenced his annual round,
Since first thy footsteps tottered o'er the ground,
Since first Uhy tongue was tuned to hless mine ear;
By faltering out the name to fathers dear.
O nature's language, with her looks comhined,
More precious far than periods thrice refined 1
0 I sportive looks of love, devoid of guile,
1 prize you more than Beauty's magic smile! Yes, in that face, unconscious of its charm, I gaze with hliss uumingled with alarm. Ah, no! full oft a hoding horror flies Athwart my fancy, uttering fateful cries. Almighty Power! his harmless life defend, And if we part, 'gainst me the mandate send. Aud yet a wish will rise,—would I might
live, Till added years his memory firmness give! For O! it would a joy in death impart, To think I still survived within his heart; To think he'll cast, midway the vale of
years, A retrospective look, hedimmed with tears; And tell, regretful, how I looked and spoke;
What walks I loved; where grevr my fa-
wild, And how the man descended to the child; How well 1 loved with him, on Sahhath
morn, To hear the anthem of the vocal thorn; To teach religion, onallied to strife, And trace to him the way, the truth, the life. But far and farther still my view I hend,— And now I see a child thy steps attend; To yonder churchyard-wall thou tak'st thy
way, While round thee, pleased, thou see'st the
infant play; Then lifting him, while tears suffuse thine
eyes, Pointing thon tell'st him, There thy grand
Youth is the vision of a morn,
It is the hlossom on the thorn
It is the image of the sky,
In glassy waters seen,
Across the hlue serene-
And lift their foaming head.
And all the heaven is fled.
'Tis fleeting as the passiog rays
Of hright electric fire, That gild the pule with sudden hlaze,
And in that hlaze expire.
It is the morning's gentle ga'e,
That, as it sofly hlows, Scarce seems to sigh across the vale,
Or hend the hlushing rose.