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This grand specific will prevail,

When all the doctor's opiates fail.

Virtue the best treasure.

Virtue, the ftrength and beauty of the foul,
Is the beft gift of Heav'n: a happiness,

That, even above the fmiles and frowns of fate,
Exalts great Nature's favourites: a wealth
That ne'er encumbers; nor to baser hands
Can be transferr'd. It is the only good
Man juftly boasts of, or can call his own.
Riches are oft by guilt and baseness earn'd.
But for one end, one much neglected ufe,
Are riches worth our care; (for nature's wants
Are few, and without opulence supplied ;)
This noble end is to produce the foul;
To show the virtues in their fairest light;
And make humanity the minifter

Of bounteous Providence.

Contemplation.

As yet 'tis midnight deep. The weary clouds,
Slow meeting, mingle into folid gloom.
Now, while the drowfy world lies loft in fleep,
Let me associate with the serious Night,
And Contemplation her fedate compeer;
Let me shake off th' intrufive cares of day,
And lay the meddling fenfes all afide.
Where now, ye lying vanities of life!
Ye ever tempting, ever cheating train!
Where are you now? and what is

your

Vexation, disappointment, and remorfe.

amount?

Sad, fick'ning thought! And yet deluded man,

A fcene of crude disjointed vifions paft,
And broken flumbers, rifes ftill refolv'd,
With new flush'd hopes, to run the giddy round.
Pleasures of piety.

A Deity believ'd, is joy begun;

A Deity ador'd, is joy advanc'd;

A Deity belov'd, is joy matur'd.

Each branch of piety delight infpires:

Faith builds a bridge from this world to the next, O'er Death's dark gulph, and all its horror hides; Praise, the sweet exhalation of our joy,

That joy exalts, and makes it fweeter ftill; Pray'r ardent opens heav'n, let's down a ftream Of glory, on the confecrated hour

Of man in audience with the Deity.

CHAPTER II.

NARRATIVE PIECES.

SECTION I.

As

The Bears and the Bees.

two young Bears, in wanton mood, Forth ifsuing from a neighbouring wood, Came where th' induftrious Bees had stor❜d, In artful cells, their lufcious hoard; O'erjoy'd they feiz'd, with eager hafte, Luxurious on the rich repaft.

Alarm'd at this, the little crew

About their ears vindictive flew.

The beafts, unable to fuftain

Th' unequal combat, quit the plain;
Half-blind with rage, and mad with pain,
Their native shelter they regain;
There fit, and now, difcreeter grown,
Too late their rathness they bemoan;
And this by dear experience gain,
That pleasure's ever bought with pain.
So when the gilded baits of vice
Are plac'd before our longing eyes,
With greedy hafte we fnatch our fill,
And fwallow down the latent ill;

N

But when experience opes our eyes,
Away the fancy'd pleasure flies.
It flies, but oh! too late we find,

It leaves a real fting behind.

MERRICK.

SECTION II.

The Nightingale and the Glow-worm.

A NIGHTINGALE, that all day long
Had cheer'd the village with his fong,
Nor yet at eve his note fufpended,
Nor yet when eventide was ended,
Began to feel, as well he might,
The keen demands of appetite;
When, looking eagerly around,
He fpied far off, upon the ground,
A fomething fhining in the dark,
And knew the glow-worm by his spark.
So, ftooping down from hawthorn top,
He thought to put him in his crop.
The worm, aware of his intent,
Harangu'd him thus, right eloquent---

"Did you admire my lamp," quoth he,

“As much as I your minftrelly,

"You would abhor to do me wrong,
"As much as I to fpoil your fong;
"For 'twas the felf-fame Pow'r Divine
"Taught you to fing, and me to fhine;
"That you with mufic, I with light,
"Might beautify and cheer the night."
The fongfter heard his fhort oration,
And, warbling out his approbation,

Releas'd him, as my ftory tells,
And found a fupper fomewhere else.
Hence, jarring fectaries may learn
Their real int'rest to discern;

That brother should not war with brother,
And worry and devour each other:
But fing and shine by fweet confent,
Till life's poor tranfient night is spent;
Refpecting, in each others' cafe,
The gifts of nature and of grace.

Those Christians best deserve the name,
Who ftudiously make peace their aim;
Peace, both the duty and the prize
Of him that creeps, and him that flies.

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But chief my fear the dangers mov'd,
That Virtue's path inclofe:
My heart the wife pursuit approv'd ;

But O, what toils oppofe !

For fee, ah fee! while yet her ways
With doubtful ftep I tread,

A hoftile world its terrors raife..

Its fnares delufive spread,

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