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That numbs the soul with icy hand;

And Now-consuming age.

To each his suff'rings: all are meny

Condemn'd alike to groan,
The tender for another's pain,

Th’unfeeling for his own.
Yet, ah ! why should they know their fate?
Since sorrow never comes too late,

And happiness too swiftly flies:
Thought would destroy their paradise.
No more: where ignorance is bliss,

'Tis folly to be wise.




Near yonder copfe, where once the garden (mild,
And still where many a garden flower grows wild;
There, where a few torn shrubs the place disclose,
The village preacher's modeft mansion rose.
A man he was, to all the country dear,
And paffing rich with forty pounds a-year;
Remote from towns he ran his godly race,
Nor c'er had chang'd, nor with’d to change his place;

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Unpractis'd he to: fawn, or seek for power,
By doctrines fashion’d to the varying hour;
Far other aims his heart had learn’d to prize,
More Kill'd to raise the wretched, than to rise.
His house was known to all the vagrant train,
He chid their wand'rings, but reliev'd'their pain.
The long-remember'd beggar was his guett,
Whose beard descending swept his-aged breast;
The ruin'd spendthrift, now no longer prond,
Claim'd kindred there, and had his claims allowds
The broken soldier, kindly bade to ftay,
Sat by his fire and talk'd the night away,
Wept o'er his wounds, or tales of sorrow done,
Shoulder'd his crutch, and shew'd how fields were won.
Pleas'd with his guests, the good man learn’d to glow,
And quite forgot their vices in their woe;
Careless their merits, or their faults to scan,
His pity gave ere charity began.

Thus to relieve the wretched was his pride,
And even his failings lean’d to virtue's side;
But in his duty prompt at every call,
He watch'd and wept, he pray'd and felt, for all.
And as a bird each fond endearment tries,
To tempt its new-fledg’d offspring to the skies;
He try'd each art, reprov'd each dull detay,
Allur'd to brighter worlds, and led the way.
Beside the bed where parting life was laid,
And forrow, guilt, and pain bị turns dismay'd, -

The reverend champion stood. At his controul, Despair and anguish fled the Atruggling foul, Comfort came down the trembling wretch to raise; And his last faltering accents whisper'd praise.

At church, with meck and unaffected grace, His looks adorn'a the venerable place; Truth from his lips prevail'd with double fway, And fools who came to scoff, remaind to pray. The service paft, around the pious man, With ready zeál, each honelt rustic 'rán; Even children follow'd with endearing wile, And pluck'd his gown, to share the good man's smile. His ready smile a parent's warmth exprest, Their welfare pleas'd him, and their cares diftreft ; To them his heart, his love, his griefs were given; But all his serious thoughts had rest in heaven. As some tall cliff that lifts its awful form, Swells from the vale, and midway leaves the storm, Though round its breast the rolling clouds are spread Eternal sunshine settles on its head.

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AQUARIUS rules the frozen skies,
Deep frowning clouds on clouds arise,


Fraught with the thunder's roar; With fury heaves the raging main, When foaming billows lash in vain

The hoarse resounding Thore.

No flowery vale now charms the eye,
No tuneful warblers of the sky

Now cheer the lingering hours;
No genial ray the groves illume,
No Zephyrs waft their mild perfume

From fighs o’er vernal flowers.

Though blooming scenes are now no more,
That aid the raptur'd soul to soar,

Poetic thoughts refine;
Yet still the moralizing page,
To warn an unattentive age,

These hoary scenes combine.

With this I hail the opening year,
Address the God, whose works appear

Through each harmonious round;
Who rules, serenely rules the storm,
Who gave the lurid lightnings form,

Whose thunders rock the ground.

O thou! alike where perfect day
In bright refulgent glories play,

Around thy awful throne !
When seraphs glow with sacred fires,
When angels tune celestial lyres,

To hymn thy praise alone!

Still may thy providential caro
With blessings crown the rising year!

Impending ills restrain!
Thy wisdom guide my youthful muse!
Thy sacred eloquence diffuse,

And consecrate my strain!

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While thus revolving seasons roll,
Obfequious to thy wise controul,

Obedient to thy plan;
With filent eloquence they preach,
The most important lessons teach,

To cold unthinking man.

Behold thyself reflected here!
The Spring proclaims thine infant year;

Gay life the Summer's bloom;
Mild Autumn speaks maturer age,
Confirms thee fool, or hails thee sage ;

While Winter Thews the tomb.

Or view the image of thy soul,
As now the mountain surges roll,

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