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“ There seek the never wasted treasureg.

“ Which mutual love and friendthip give “ Domestic comfort, spotless pleasure,

“ And bleft and blessing you will live.

ling

" If Heav'n with children crowns your

“ As mine its bounty does with you, « In fondness fatherly excelling,

“ Th’example you have felt pursue."

He pausd-----for tenderly careffing

The darling of his wounded heart, Looks had means only of expressing

Thoughts, language never could impart,

Now night her mournfui mantle spreading;

Had rob'd in black th'horizon round, And dank dewsy from her treffes shedding,

With-genial moifture bath'd the ground;

When back to city follies dying,

'Midft custom's flaves he liv'd refign'd, His face, array'd in fmilesy denying

The true complexion of his mind.

For seriously around surveying

Each character, in youth and age,
Of fools betray'd, and knaves betraying,',

That play'd upon this buman ftage.

(Peaceful himself and undesigning)

He loath'd the scenes of guile and strife, And felt each secret wish inclining

To leave this fretful farce of life.

Yet to whate'er above was fated,

Obediently he bow'd his soul,
For, what all-bounteous Heaven created,

He thought Heaven only should controul.

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ETON COLLEGE.

BK GRAY
Y e distant spires, ye antique towers,

That crown the watery glade
Where grateful Science stilt'adores

Her Henry's holy shade;
And ye, that from the stately brow
Of Windsor's heights th’expanse below

Of grove, of lawn, of mead survey,
Whose turf, whose shade, whose flowers among
Wanders the hoary Thames along

His filver-winding way.

Ah happy hills! ah pleafing shade!

Ah fields beloy'd in vaint.

Where once my careless childhood stray'd,

A stranger yet to pain!
I feel the gales that from ye blow,
A momentary bliss bestow,

As waving fresh their gladsome wing,
My weary soul they seem to footh,
And, redolent of joy and youth,

To breathe a second spring.

Say, father Thames, (for thou haft feen

Full many a sprightly race,
Disporting on thy margent green,

The paths of pleasure trace)
Who foremost now delight to cleave
With pliant arm thy glasfy wave?

The captive linnet which inthrall?
What idle progeny succeed
To chase the rolling circle's speed;.

Or urge the flying ball.

While some on earnest business bent

Their murm’ring labours ply 'Gainst graver hours, that bring constraint

To sweeten liberty:
Some bold adventurers disdain
The limits of their little reign,

And unknown regions dare defcry:
Still as they run they look behind,

They hear a voice in every wind,

And snatch a fearful joy.

Gay hope is theirs by fancy fed,

Less pleasing when pofleft ; The tear forgot as soon as thed,

The sunshine of the breaft: Theirs buxom health of rosy hue, Wild wit, invention ever new,

And lively cheer of vigour born; The thoughtless day, the cafy night, The spirits pure, the numbers light,

That fly th' approach of morn.

Alas, regardless of their doom,

The little victims play!
No sense have they of ills to come,

No care beyond to-day:
Yet see how all around them wait,
The ministers of human fate,

And black misfortune's baleful train! Ah, shew them where in ambuh stand To seize their prey the murd'rous band!

Ah, tell them, they are men!

These shall the fury paflions tear,

The vultures of the mind,

Disdainful anger, pallid fear,

And Thame that sculks behind;
Or pining love shall waste their youth,
Or jealousy with rankling tooth,

That inly gnaws the secret heart,
And envy wan, and faded care,
Grim-visag'd comfortless despair,

And sorrow's piercing dart.

Ambition this Thall tempt to rise,

Then whirl the wretch from high,
To bitter fcorn a sacrifice,

And grinning infamy.
The stings of falsehood those thall try,
And hard unkindness? alter'd eye,

That mocks the tear it forc'd to flow, And keen remorse, with blood' defil'd, And moody madness laughing wild

Amid severest woe.

Lo, in the vale of years beneath

A grisly troop are seen, The painful family of death,

More hideous than their queen : This racks the joints, this fires the veins; That every labouring finew strains;

Those in the deeper vitals rage : Lo, poverty, to fill the band,

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