The youth, who seem'd to watch a time to sin, Approach'd the careless guide, and thrust him in ; Plunging he falls, and rising lifts his head, Then flashing turns, and sinks among the dead. Wild, sparkling rage inflames the father's eyes, He bursts the bands of fear, and madly cries, • Detested wretch'-but scarce his speech began, When the strange partner seem'd no longer man: His youthful face grew more serenely sweet, His robe turn'd white, and flow'd upon his feet; Fair rounds of radiant points invest his hair; Celestial odours breathe through purpled air; And wings, whose colours glitter'd on the day, Wide at his back their gradual plumes display; The form ethereal bursts upon his sight, And moves in all the majesty of light. Though loud at first the pilgrim's passion grew, Thy pray'r, thy praise, thy life to vice unknown, In sweet memorial rise before the throne: These charms, success in our bright region find, The Maker justly claims that world he made : On using second means to work his ends: • What strange events can strike with more surprize, Than those which lately struck thy wond'ring eyes? Yet taught by these, confess th' Almighty just, And where you can't unriddle, learn to trust! The great, vain man, who far'd on costly food, ‹ The mean suspicious wretch, whose bolted door Ne'er mov'd in duty to the wand'ring poor; With him I left the cup, to teach his mind That heav'n can bless, if mortals will be kind. Conscious of wanting worth, he views the bowl, And feels compassion touch his grateful soul. Thus artists melt the sullen ore of lead, With heaping coals of fire upon its head; In the kind warmth the metal learns to glow, And, loose from dross, the silver runs below. 'Long had our pious friend in virtue trod, But now the child half-wean'd his heart from God; (Child of his age) for him he liv'd in pain, And measur'd back his steps to earth again. To what excesses had his dotage run ? But God, to save the father, took the son. To all but thee, in fits he seem'd to go, (And 'twas my ministry to deal the blow.) The poor fond parent, humbled in the dust, Now owns, in tears, the punishment was just. But how had all his fortune felt a wrack, Had that false servant sped in safety back? This night his treasur'd heaps he meant to steal, And what a fund of charity would fail! ‹ Thus heav'n instructs thy mind: this trial o'er, Depart in peace, resign, and sin no more.' On sounding pinions here the youth withdrew, The sage stood wond'ring as the seraph flew. Thus look'd Elisha, when to mount on high, His master took the chariot of the sky: The fiery pomp ascending left the view; The prophet gaz'd, and wish'd to follow too. The bending hermit here a pray'r begun, Lord! as in heav'n, on earth thy will be done. Then gladly turning, sought his ancient place, And pass'd a life of piety and peace. THE EMIGRANT: AN ECLOGUE. [HON. H. ERSKINE.] Nos patriæ fines et dulcia linquimus arva, FAST by the margin of a mossy rill, VIRG. That wander'd gurgling down a heath-clad hill, His few remaining hairs were silver gray, • Occasioned by the numerous emigrations from the Highlands of Scotland. |