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The thick-fprung reeds the wat'ry marshes yield,
Seem polifh'd lances in a hoftile field.

The ftag in limpid currents, with furprize,
Sees crystal branches on his forehead rife.

The fpreading oak, the beach, and tow'ring pine,
Glaz'd over, in the freezing æther fhine.

The frighted birds the rattling branches fhun,
That wave and glitter in the diftant fun.
When, if a gust of wind arife,

The brittle foreft into atoms flies:

The crackling wood beneath the tempeft bends,
And in a spangled fhow'r the prospect ends.
Or, if a fouthern gale the region warm,
And by degrees unbind the wintry charm,
The traveller a miry country fees,

And journeys fad beneath the dropping trees.
Like fome deluded peafant, Merlin leads
Through fragrant bow'rs, and through delicious meads;
While here enchanted gardens to him rise,
And airy fabrics there attract his eyes,
His wandring feet the magic paths pursue;
And, while he thinks the fair illufion true,
The trackless scenes difperfe in fluid air,
And woods and wilds, and thorny ways appear:
A tedious road the weary wretch returns,
And as he goes, the tranfient vifion mourns.

Copenhagen, March 9th, 1709.

90

THE FIRE-SIDE.

BY DR. COTTON.

I.

DEAR Chloe, while the bufy crowd,
The vain, the wealthy, and the proud,
In folly's maze advance;

Though fingularity and pride

Be call'd our choice, we'll ftep afide,
Nor join the giddy dance.

IL

From the gay world we'll oft retire
To our own family and fire,

Where love our hours employs;
No noify neighbours enter here,
No intermeddling ftranger near
To fpoil our heart-felt joys.

III.

If folid happiness we prize,
Within our breaft this jewel lies;

And they are fools who roam:

The world has nothing to bestow,
From our own felves our joys must flow,

And that dear hut, our home.

IV.

Of reft was Noah's dove bereft,

When with impatient wing the left,

That fafe retreat, the ark;

Giving her vain excurfion o'er,

The disappointed bird once more

Explor'd the facred bark.

V.

Though fools fpurn hymen's gentle pow'rs, We, who improve his golden hours,

By fweet experience know,

That marriage, rightly understood,

Gives to the tender and the good

A paradife below.

VI.

Our babes fhall richest comforts bring,
If tutor'd right, they'll prove a spring,
Whence pleasures ever rise:

We'll form their minds with ftudious care,
To all that's manly, good, and fair,

And train them for the skies.

VII.

While they our wifeft hours engage,
They'll joy our youth, fupport our age,
And crown our hoary hairs:

They'll grow in virtue every day,
And thus our fondest loves repay,

And recompenfe our cares..
VIII.

No borrow'd joys! they're all our own,

While to the world we live unknown,

Or by the world forgot:

Monarchs! we envy not your state,
We look with pity on the great,

And blefs our humbler lot.

IX.

Our portion is not large indeed,
But then, how little do we need!

For nature's calls are few!

In this the art of living lies,

To want no more than may fuffice,

And make that little do.

X.

We'll therefore relish with content
Whate'er kind Providence has fent,
Nor aim beyond our pow'r;
For if our stock be very small,
'Tis prudence to enjoy it all,

Nor lofe the present hour.
XI.

To be refign'd, when ills betide,
Patient, when favours are deny'd,

And pleas'd with favours giv'n,
Dear Chloe, this is wifdom's part,
This is that incenfe of the heart,

Whofe fragrance fmells to heav'n,
XII.

We'll afk no long protracted treat, (Since winter life is feldom fweet;)

But when our feaft is o'er,

Grateful from table we'll arife,

Nor grudge our fons with envious eyes,

The relics of our store.

XIII.

Thus hand in hand through life we'll go,
Its checker'd paths of joy and woe
With cautious fteps we'll tread;
Quit its vain scenes without a tear,
Without a trouble or a fear,

And mingle with the dead.

XIV.

While confcience, like a faithful friend,
Shall through the gloomy vale attend,
And cheer our dying breath;
Shall, when all other comforts cease,
Like a kind angel whisper peace,
And smooth the bed of death.

ADAM'S MORNING HYMN.

THESE

BY MILTON

HESE are thy glorious works, Parent of good, Almighty! thine this univerfal frame,

Thus wondrous fair; thyfelf how wondrous then! Unfpeakable, who fitt'ft above these heav'ns,

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