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Extend thy ev'ry noble pow'r to save
The wretch juft tott'ring o'er an early grave;
For, noble were the deed that could impart
Reviving vigour to the drooping heart;
For, then no more the fatal branch shall bind,
In golden ties, the loft enchanted mind;
Tear ev'ry fibre from the verdant root,
And blast each dangʼrous bloffom ere it shoot:
So fhall the praise of ransom'd millions rise,
In grateful incenfe, to the echoing fkies;
So through the world thy matchlefs fame 'extend,
And wond'ring nations hail thee mercy's friend ;
Thee, first in ev'ry virtue, ev'ry worth,
That gives to glory or to genius birth;
Let thy avenging, thy all-conquʼring, hand
Give peace and freedom to an injur’d land!
Glory be thine; and let pale mis❜ry prove
The joys of friendship and the blifs of love;
And heav'nly liberty's celeftial ray

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Beam o'er the world one pure eternal day!

Miss H. FALCON ÁR.

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PERIS

THE NEGROES.

ERISH th' illib'ral thought which would debase
The native genius of the fable race!

Perish

Perish the proud philosophy which fought
To rob them of the pow'rs of equal thought!
Does then th' immortal principle within
Change with the cafual colour of a skin?
Does matter govern spirit? or is mind
Degraded by the form to which 'tis join'd?

No: they have heads to think, and hearts to feel,
And fouls to act, with firm tho' erring zeal;
For they have keen affections, kind defires,
Love strong as death, and active patriot fires ;
All the rude energy, the fervid flame,

Of high-foul'd paffion, and ingenuous shame;
Strong but luxuriant virtues boldly shoot
From the wild vigour of a favage root.

Nor weak their fenfe of honour's proud controul; For pride is virtue in a Pagan foul;

A fenfe of worth, a confcience of defert,

A high, unbroken haughtiness of heart;

That felf-fame ftuff which erft proud empires fway'd,
Of which the conquerors of the world were made.
Capricious fate of man! that very pride
In Afric fcourg'd, in Rome was deify'd.

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Love but lafts a tranfient season,
Friendship makes the blifs above.

Who would lofe the fecret pleasure
Felt, when foul with foul unites!
Other bleffings have their measure,
Friendship without bound delights.

DR. HAWKESWORTH.

I

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Read God's awful name emblazon'd high
With golden letters on th' illumin'd sky;
Nor lefs the myftic characters I fee

Wrought in each flower, infcrib'd on ev'ry tree;
In ev'ry leaf that trembles to the breeze

I hear the voice of God among the trees.
With thee in fhady folitudes I walk,
With thee in bufy crowded cities talk;
In every creature own thy forming power,
In each event thy providence adore.

Thy hopes fhall animate my drooping foul,
Thy precepts guide me, and thy fear controul:
Thus fhall I reft, unmov'd by all alarms,

Secure within the temple of thine arms,

From anxious cares, from gloomy terrors free,
And feel myself omnipotent in thee.

Then when the laft, the clofing hour draws nigh, And earth recedes before my fwimming eye;

When

When trembling on the doubtful edge of fate
I ftand and stretch my view to either state;
Teach me to quit this tranfitery scene
With decent triumph and a look ferene;
Teach me to fix my ardent hopes on high,
And having liv'd to thee, in thee to die.

MRS. BARBAULD.

SECT.

XIII.

IF

ON PROSPERITY AND ADVERSITY.

F the foft hand of winning pleasure leads
By living waters, and through flowery meads,
When all is fmiling, tranquil, and ferene,
And vernal beauty paints the flattering fcene;
Oh! teach me to elude the latent fnale,
And whifper to my fliding heart-beware!
With caution let me hear the fyren's voice,
And doubtful with a trembling heart rejoice.

If friendless in a vale of tears I ftray,
Where briars wound, and thorns perplex my way;
Still let my fteady foul thy goodness fee,
And with ftrong confidence lay hold on thee,
With equal eye my various lot receive;
Refign'd to die, or refolute to live;
Prepar'd to kifs the fceptre or the rod,
While God is feen in all, and all in God.

MRS. BARBAULD.

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EHOLD where breathing love divine

B Our dying mafter ftands!

His weeping followers gathering round
Receive his last commands. '.

II.

From that mild teacher's parting lips
What tender accents fell!
The gentle precept which he gave

Became its author well.

III.

Blefs'd is the man whose soft'ning heart

Feels all another's pain;

To whom the fupplicating eye

Was never rais'd in vain :

IV.

Whose breaft expands with gen'rous warmth,

A ftranger's woes to feel;

And bleeds in pity o'er the wound

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He fpreads his kind fupporting arms

To every child of grief;

His fecret bounty largely flows,

And brings unafk'd relief!

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