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Through nature's ever-varying scene,
The one eternal end of Heav'n
As when it tunes the linnet's voice,
Or blushes in the rose.
By Reason taught to scorn those fears
Thy life may all the tend'rest care
And delegated angels round
Their guardian wings extend;
When, through creation's vast expanse, The last dread thunders roll, Untune the concord of the spheres, And shake the rising soul;
Unmov'd may'st thou the final storm
Of jarring worlds survey,
That ushers in the glad serene
Of everlasting day.
THE EVENING WALK.
BY THE SAME.
How sweet the calm of this sequester'd shore,
Where ebbing waters musically roll;
And solitude and silent eve restore
The sighing gale, whose murmurs lull to rest
Farewell, the objects of diurnal care,
Let all be undisturb'd vacation here,
While o'er yon wave ascends the peaceful moon.
What beauteous visions o'er the soften'd heart
In this still moment all their charms diffuse,
Serener joys and brighter hopes impart,
And cheer the soul with more than mortal views.
Here faithful Mem'ry wakens all her pow'rs,
And quick to ev'ry gladden'd thought restores
Come, ********, come, and with me share The sober pleasures of this solemn scene; While no rude tempest clouds the ruffled air, But all, like thee, is smiling and serene,
Come, while the cool, the solitary hours
Each foolish care, and giddy wish control, With all thy soft persuasion's wonted pow'rs, Beyond the stars transport my listening soul.
Oft when the earth detain'd by empty show, Thy voice has taught the trifler how to rise! Taught her to look with scorn on things below, And seek her better portion in the skies.
Come, and the sacred eloquence repeat:
BY THE SAME.
WHILE Soft through water, earth, and air,
The vernal spirits rove,
To rural scenes remove.
The mountain snows are all dissolv'd, And hush'd the blust'ring gale; While fragrant zephyrs gently breathe Along the flow'ry vale.
The circling planets' constant rounds
Renew the verdant year.
But, ah! when once our transient bloom,
The spring of life, is o'er,
That rosy season takes its flight,
And must return no more.
Yet judge by Reason's sober rules,
And mark how little pilf'ring years
Each moral pleasure of the heart,
The vain coquet, whose empty pride
A fading face supplies,
May justly dread the wintry gloom,
Where all its glory dies.
Leave such a ruin to deplore,
To fading forms confin'd:
Amidst the universal change,
It views unmov'd, the scythe of Time
Fixt on its own eternal frame,
Eternal are its joys;
While, borne on transitory wings,
While ev'ry short-liv'd flow'r of sense
Through Friendship's fair enchanting walks,
Nor with the narrow bounds of time
But lengthen'd through the vale of deaths