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THE MISER AND PLUTUS.- Gay.

THE wind was high, the window shakes,
With sudden start the miser wakes,
Along the silent room he stalks,
Looks back and trembles as he walks :
Each lock and ev'ry bolt he tries;
In ev'ry creek and corner pries;
Then opes the chest with treasure stor'd,
And stands in rapture o'er his hoard.
But now, with sudden qualms possest,
He wrings his hands, he beats his breast;
By conscience stung, he wildly stares,
And thus his guilty soul declares.

"Had the deep earth her stores confin'd, "This heart had known sweet peace of mind. "But virtue's sold. Good gods, what price "Can recompense the pangs of vice! "O, bane of good! seducing cheat! "Can man, weak man, thy power defeat? "Gold banish'd honour from the mind, "And only left the name behind; "Gold sow'd the world with ev'ry ill ; "Gold taught the murderer's sword to kill; "'Twas gold instructed coward hearts "In treach'ry's more pernicious arts: "Who can recount the mischiefs o'er ? "Virtue resides on earth no more!"

He spoke, and sigh'd. In angry mood
Plutus, his god, before him stood;

The miser trembling lock'd his chest ;—
The vision frown'd, and thus addrest :
"Whence is this vile ungrateful rant?
"Each sordid rascal's daily cant ;
"Did 1, base wretch, corrupt mankind?
"The fault's in thy rapacious mind.
"Because my blessings are abus'd,
"Must I be censur'd, curst, accus'd?
"Ev'n virtue's self by knaves is made
"A cloak to carry on the trade,
"And power (when lodg'd in their possession)
"Grows tyranny and rank oppression.

"Thus, when the villain crams his chest,
"Gold is the canker of the breast;
“'Tis av'rice, insolence, and pride,
"And ev'ry shocking vice beside.
"But when to virtuous hands 'tis given,
"It blesses, like the dews of Heaven ;
"Like Heav'n it hears the orphan's cries,
"And wipes the tears from widows' eyes."

THE SICK MAN AND THE ANGEL.-Gay.

"Is there no hope?" the sick man said :
The silent doctor shook his head,
And took his leave, with signs of sorrow,
Despairing of his fee to-morrow.

When thus the man, with gasping breath: "I feel the chilling wound of death.

"Since I must bid the world adieu,
"Let me my former life review:
"I grant, my bargains well were made,
"But all men over-reach in trade;
"'Tis self-defence, in each profession,-
"Sure self-defence is no transgression.
"The little portion in my hands,
"By good security on lands,
"Is well encreas'd. If, unawares,
My justice to myself and heirs
"Hath let my debtor rot in jail,
"For want of good sufficient bail;
"If I by writ, or bond, or deed,
"Reduced a family to need,

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My will hath made the world amends; "My hope on charity depends. "When I am number'd with the dead, "And all my pious gifts are read,

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By heav'n and earth, 'twill then be known My charities were amply shown."

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An angel came: "Ah, friend," he cried,
"No more in flatt'ring hope confide.
"Can thy good deeds in former times
"Outweigh the balance of thy crimes ?
"What widow or what orphan prays
"To crown thy life with length of days?
"A pious action's in thy power,
"Embrace with joy the happy hour;

Now, while you draw the vital air, "Prove your intention is sincere ; "This instant give a hundred pound; "Your neighbours want, and you abound.”

"But why such haste,” the siek man whines, "Who knows as yet what Heav'n designs? Perhaps I may recover still ;— "That sum and more are in my will."

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"Fool," said the vision, "now 'tis plain,

"Your life, your soul, your heav'n was gàin ; "From ev'ry side, with all your might; "You scrap'd, and scrap'd beyond your right, "And after death would fain atone,

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""

By giving what is not your own.'

"While there is life, there's hope," he cried; “Then why such haste?" so groan'd and died.

THE COUNCIL OF HORSES.-Gay.

UPON a time, a neighing steed,
Who graz'd among a num'rous breed,
With mutiny had fir'd the train,
And spread dissension through the plain..
On matters that concern'd the state
The council met in grand debate:
A colt, whose eye-balls flam'd with ire,
Elate with strength and youthful fire,
In haste stept forth before the rest,
And thus the list'ning throng addrest.

Good gods! how abject is our race, "Condemn'd to slavery and disgrace! "Shall we our servitude retain, "Because our sires have borne the chain

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"Consider, friends, your strength and might; "'Tis conquest to assert your right; "How cumb'rous is the gilded coach! “The pride of man is our reproach ; "Were we design'd for daily toil, "To drag the plough-share through the soil, "To sweat in harness through the road, "To groan beneath the carrier's load? "How feeble are the two-legg'd kind! "What force is in our nerves combin'd! Shall, then, our nobler jaws submit “To foam and champ the galling bit? "Shall haughty man my back bestride? "Shall the sharp spur provoke my side? "Forbid it heavens! Reject the rein, "Your shame, your infamy disdain; "Let him the lion first control, "And still the tyger's famish'd growl: "Let us, like them, our freedom claim, "And make him tremble at our name."

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A general nod approved the cause,
And all the circle neigh'd applause ;
When, lo, with grave and solemn pace,
A steed advanc'd before the race,
With age and long experience wise;
Around he cast his thoughtful eyes,
And to the murmurs of the train,
Thus spoke the Nestor of the plain :

"When I had health and strength, like you, "The toils of servitude 1 knew;

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