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That numbs the foul with icy hand;
And slow-consuming age.

To each his fuff'rings: all are men,

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 forrow never comes too late,
And happiness too swiftly flies:
Thought would destroy their paradise.
No more: where ignorance is blifs,
'Tis folly to be wife.

THE

COUNTRY CLERGYMAN.

BY GOLDSMITH.

NEAR Yonder copfe, where once the garden smil'd,
And ftill 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 e'er had chang'd, nor wish'd to change his place;

Unpractis'd he to: fawn, or feek for power,
By doctrines fashion'd to the varying hour;
Far other aims his heart had learn'd to prize,
More fkill'd to raife the wretched, than to rife.
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 gueft,
Whose beard defcending fwept his aged breaft;
The ruin'd fpendthrift, now no longer proud,
Claim'd kindred there, and had his claims allow'd;
The broken foldier, kindly bade to ftay,
Sat by his fire and talk'd the night away;

Wept o'er his wounds, or tales of forrow done,
'Shoulder'd his crutch, and fhew'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 fide;
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.
Befide the bed where parting life was laid,
And sorrow, guilt, and pain by turns dismay'd,-

The reverend champion ftood. At his controul,
Defpair and anguish fled the struggling foul,
Comfort came down the trembling wretch to raife,
And his last faltering accents whisper'd praise.
At church, with meek and unaffected grace,
His looks adorn'd the venerable place;
Truth from his lips prevail'à with double fway,
And fools who came to fcoff, remain'd to pray.
The service paft, around the pious man,

With ready zeal, each honest rustic rán;
Even children follow'd with endearing wile,
And pluck'd his gown, to share the good man's fimile.
His ready fmile a parent's warmth expreft,
Their welfare pleas'd him, and their cares diftreft ;
To them his heart, his love, his griefs were given;
But all his ferious thoughts had reft in heaven.
As fome tall cliff that lifts its awful form,

Swells from the vale, and midway leaves the ftorm,
Though round its breast the rolling clouds are spread
Eternal funshine fettles on its head.

ODE

TO THE NEW YEAR, 1769.

BY CUNNINGHAM.

AQUARIUS rules the frozen skies,

Deep frowning clouds on clouds arife,

L

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

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 fcenes are now no more, That aid the raptur'd foul to foar,

Poetic thoughts refine;

Yet ftill the moralizing page,

To warn an unattentive age,

These hoary fcenes combine.

With this I hail the opening year,
Addrefs the God, whose works appear
Through each harmonious round;
Who rules, ferenely rules the storm,
Who gave the lurid lightnings form,
Whofe thunders rock the ground.

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

Around thy awful throne!

When feraphs glow with facred fires,

When angels tune celeftial lyres,

To hymn thy praife alone!

Still may thy providential care
With bleffings crown the rifing year!
Impending ills restrain!

Thy wisdom guide my youthful mufe!
Thy facred eloquence diffuse,

And confecrate my strain!

While thus revolving feafons roll,
Obfequious to thy wife controul,
Obedient to thy plan;

With filent eloquence they preach,
The most important leffons teach,
To cold unthinking man.

Behold thy felf 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 fage;
While Winter fhews the tomb.

Or view the image of thy foul,
As now the mountain furges roll,

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