Pleasures of Picty.

A Deity believ❜d, is joy begun;
A Deity ador'd, is joy advanced;
A Deity belov'd, is joy matur'd.
Each branch of piety delight inspires:

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 sweeter still:
Pray'r ardent opens heaven, lets down a stream
Of glory, on the consecrated hour
Of man in audience with the Deity.

CHAPTER II.

NARRATIVE PIECES.

SECTION I.

THE BEARS AND THE BEES.

As two young bears, in wanton mood,
Forth issuing from a neighbouring wood,
Came where th' industrious bees had stor'd,
In artful cells their luscious hoard;
O'erjoy'd they seiz'd, with eager haste,
Luxurious on the rich repast.

Alarm'd at this, the little crew
About their ears vindictive flew.
The beasts, unable to sustain

Th' unequal combat, quit the plain;

Half blind with rage, and mad with pain,

Their native shelter they regain;
There sit, and now discreeter grown,
Too late their rashness 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 haste we snatch our fill,
And swallow down the latent ill:
But when experience opes our eyes,
Away the fancied pleasure flies.
It flies, but oh! too late we find,
It leaves a real sting behind.

일

MERRICK.

A NIGHTINGALE, that all day long
Had cheer'd the village with his song,
Nor yet at eve his note suspended,
Nor yet when even-tide was ended,
Began to feel, as well he might,
The keen demands of appetite;
When, looking eagerly around,
He spied far off, upon the ground,
A something shining in the dark,
And knew the glow-worm by his spark.
So, stooping down from hawthorn top,
He thought to put him in his crop.
The worm, aware of his intent,
Harrangued him thus, right eloquent
"Did you admire my lamp," quoth he,.
"As much as I your minstrelsy,
You would abhor to do me wrong,
As much as I to spoil your song;
For 'twas the self-same power divine
Taught you to sing, and me to shine;
That you with music, I with light,
Might beautify and cheer the night."

The songster heard his short oration,
And, warbling out his approbation,
Releas'd him, as my story tells,
And found a supper somewhere else.
Hence, jarring sectaries may learn
Their real int'rest to discern;

That brother should not war with brother,
And worry and devour each other:

But sing and shine by sweet consent,

Till life's poor transient night is spent ;

Respecting in each other's case,

The gifts of nature and of grace.

Those Christians best deserve the name,

Who studiously make peace their aim;
Peace, both the duty and the prize

THE TRIALS OF VIRTUE.

PLAC'D on the verge of youth, my mind
Life's op'ning scenes survey'd:

I view'd its ills of various kind,
Afflicted and afraid.

But chief my fear the dangers mov',
That virtue's path enclose:
My heart the wise pursuit approv'd;
But O, what toils oppose!

For see, ah see! while yet her ways,
With doubtful step I tread,
A hostile world its terrors raise
Its snares delusive spread.

O how shall I, with heart prepar'd,
Those terrors learn to meet?
How, from the thousand snares, to guard
My unexperienc'd feet?

As thus I mus'd, oppressive sleep
Soft o'er my temples drew
Oblivions veil. The wat'ry deep,
An object strange and new,

Before me rose: on the wide shore
Observant as I stood,

The gathering storms around me roar,
And heave the boiling flood.

Near and more near the billows rise;
Ev'n now my steps they lave;
And death to my aflrighted eyes
Approach'd in ev'ry wave.

What hope, or whither to retreat!
Each nerve at once unstrung;
Chill fear had fetter'd fast my feet,
And chain'd my speechless tongue.

I felt my heart within me die;
When sudden to mine ear

A voice descending from on high,
Reprov'd my erring fear.

R

183.

The English Reader.

"What though the swelling surge thou see
Impatient to devour;

Rest mortal, rest on God's decree,

And thankful own his pow'r.

Know, when he bade the deep appear,
Thus far' th' Almighty said,

Thus far, no farther, rage; and here
"Let thy proud waves be stay'd.'"

I heard; and lo! at once controll'd,
The waves in wild retreat,
Back on themselves reluctant roll'd
And murm'ring left my feet..
Deeps to assembling deeps in vain
Once more the signal gave:
The shores the rushing weight sustain,
And check th' usurping wave.

Convinc'd in Nature's volume wise,
The imag'd truth I read;

And sudden from my waking eyes
Th' instructive vision fled.

Then why thus heavy, O my soul!
Say, why, distrustful still,
Thy thoughts with vain impatience roll
O'er scenes of future ill?

Let faith suppress each rising fear,
Each anxious doubt exclude;
Thy Maker's will has plac'd thee here,
Á Maker wise and good!

He to thy ev'ry trial knows
Its just restraint to give
Attentive to behold thy woes,
And faithful to relieve.

Then why thus heavy, O my soul!
Say, why, distrustful still,

Thy thoughts with vain impatience roll
O'er scenes of future ill?

d throne thee round,

Part 2.

Chap.

H

T

SECTION IV.

THE YOUTH AND THE PHILOSOPHER.

A GRECIAN youth of talents rare,
Whom Plato's philosophic care
Had form'd for virtue's nobler view,
By precept and example too,

Would often boast his matchless skill,
To curb the steed, and guide the wheel:
And as he pass'd the gazing throng,
With graceful ease, and smack'd the thong,
The idiot wonder they express'd,
Was praise and transport to his breast.

At length, quite vain, he needs would show His master what his art could do;

And bade his slaves the chariot lead
To Academus' sacred shade. .

The trembling grove confess'd its fright;
The wood-nymphs started at the sight;
The muses drop the learned lyre,
And to their inmost shades retire.
Howe'er, the youth, with forward air,
Bows to the sage, and mounts the car.
The lash resounds, the coursers spring,
The chariot marks the rolling ring;
And gath'ring crowds, with eager eyes,
And shouts pursue him as he flies.

Triumphant to the goal return'd,
With nobler thirst his bosom burn'd:
And now along th' indented plain
The self-same track he marks again,
Pursues with care the nice design,
Nor ever deviates from the line.
Amazement seiz'd the circling croud,
The youths with emulation glow'd;
Ev'n bearded sages hail'd the boy;
And all but Plato gaz'd with joy.
For he, deep judging sage, beheld
With pain the triumphs of the field;
And when the charioteer drew nigh,
And, flush'd with hope, had caught his eye,
"Alas! unhappy youth," he cried,
"Expect no praise from me," (and sigh’d.)
"With indignation I survey