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So may the glow-worm's glimm'ring light

Thy tiny footsteps lead

To fome new region of delight,
Unknown to mortal tread.

And be thy acorn goblet fill'd
With heav'n's ambrofial dew;

From sweetest, freshest flow'rs diftill'd,
That shed fresh sweets for you.

And what of life remains for me,
I'll pass in fober ease;
Half-pleas'd, contented will I be,
Content but half to please.

ON THE

IMMORTALITY

OF THE

S

0 U L.

If we with brutes must share a common fate,

Nor quit this earthly, for a better state,
If cruel death destroys the thinking part,
And strikes the fpirit, as it ftrikes the heart,
Say, to what purpose was our reason given,
Reafon, the greatest, noblest gift of Heaven?

E

Say, who would ever be upon their guard
'Gainst vice, if virtue meets with no reward?
Much happier does the libertine appear,
Who drinks of pleasure's cup without a fear:
His days are jovial, ev'ry scene is gay,
And in amusements pafs his time away,
'Till the last period of his life is come,

And death conducts him to the filent tomb.
Turn from this picture of earth's happy man,
And let us that of virtue's votaries fcan,

See merit oft expos'd to envious hate,

The frowns of fortune, and the storms of fate :
See the good man by dire misfortune led,
Subfervient to the wealthy fool for bread:
There often doom'd to hear what gives offence,
To truth, morality, and common sense:
'Till worn with sorrow, and by grief oppreft,
The weary foul fighs for its promis'd reft,
And like the hireling, working for his pay,
Welcomes the evening of a toilfome day:
If this be true, what greater proof can rife
That virtue blooms but in her native skies?
The charming plant, here nurs'd with tender care,
By death tranfplanted, yields its produce there.
This thought alone can the good man fuftain,
And give him ease in poverty and pain.

Who will not calmly bear stern fortune's frown,

That knows he foon shall gain a heav'nly crown?

Who does on fublunary blifs depend,

That hopes a happiness which ne'er shall end?
Have courage then, ye meritorious few,

Whom strong temptations labour to fubdue,
Fight the good fight, and with life's latest breath,
Prove glorious victors over Sin and Death.

ODE, IN ELFRIDA.

BY MASON.

HAIL to thy living light,

Ambrofial Morn! all hail thy roseat ray
That bids gay nature all her charms difplay
In varied beauty bright:

That bids each dewy-spangled flowret rise,
And dart around its vermeil dyes;

Bids filver luftre grace yon' sparkling tide
That winding warbles down the mountain's fide.

Away, ye goblins all!

Wont the bewilder'd traveller to daunt;

Whofe vagrant feet have trac'd your fecret haunt Befide fome lonely wall,

Or fhatter'd ruin of a mofs-grown tow'r,

Where, at pale midnight's stillest hour,

Through each rough chink the folemn orb of night, Pours momentary gleams of trembling light.

52

Away, ye elves, away!

Shrink at ambrofial Morning's living ray;

That living ray, whose pow'r benign,

Unfolds the scene of glory to our eye,

Where, thron'd in artless majesty,

The cherub beauty fits on nature's ruftic fhrine:

HYMN TO CONTENTMENT.

LOVELY, lafting peace of mind!

To crown

Sweet delight of human kind!
Heav'nly born, and bred on high,
the fav'rites of the sky
With more of happiness below
Than victors in a triumph know!
Whither, O whither art thou fled,
To lay thy meek, contented head!
What happy region doft thou please
To make the feat of calms and ease?
Ambition fearches all its fphere

Of

pomp and ftate to meet thee there..
Increasing Avarice would find
Thy presence in its gold enshrin'd.
The bold advent'rer ploughs his way
Through rocks amidst the foaming fea

To gain thy love; and then perceives
Thou wert not in the rocks and waves.
The filent heart which grief affails,
Treads foft and lonesome o'er the vales,
Sees daifies open, rivers run,

And feeks (as I have vainly done)
Amusing thought; but learns to know
That Solitude's the nurfe of woe.
No real happiness is found

In trailing purple o'er the ground: '
Or, in a foul exalted high,

To range the circuit of the fky,
Converse with ftars above, and know
All nature in its forms below:
The reft it feeks in feeking dies,
And doubts at laft for knowledge rife.
Lovely, lafting Peace, appear!
This world itfelf, if thou art here,
Is once again with Eden bleft,
And man contains it in his breaft.

'Twas thus, as under fhade I ftood,

I fung my wishes to the wood,

And loft in thought, no more perceiv'd.
The branches whifper as they way'd:
It feem'd as all the quiet place
Confefs'd the prefence of the grace.
When thus fhe spoke---go rule thy will,
Bid thy wild paffions all be ftill,

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