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Heart-whole, I’d smile at grief and pain, Content with godliness is gain,” . Unanswer'd hope's vexation.
Oh! then, unless thus good and kind
A Patron I may haply find,-
May Heav'n bestow Contentment:
That as thro’ Life's low vale I steal,
I be not tempted to reveal
Sad symptoms of resentment.
Be ev'ry station where I’m plac'd,
With humble resignation grac'd,
How low or high soever:
In poverty, that I repin'd,
Or high, to arrogance inclin'd,
Be it never said, O, never.
If Patron e'er become myself-
And who so low, but sometimes, pelf
Is his to give another?—
Oh! then, I pray sincere, that I
May act as I would be done by,
And hold that man my Brother.
And, as the man's more blest who gives,”
Than he who bounty but receives,
This truth consider duly 1–
So let me ever think, that he,
Who gratefully accepts from me,
Becomes my Friend most truly.
Attend my precepts, thoughtless youths,
Ere long you'll think them weighty truths;
Prudent it were to think so now,
Ere age has silver'd o'er your brow :
For he, who at his early years
Has sown in vice, shall reap in tears.
If Folly has possess'd his prime,
Disease shall gather strength in time.
The subject of my song is Health,
A good superior far to wealth.
Can the young mind distrust its worth :
Consult the monarchs of the earth :
Imperial Czars, and Sultans own
No gem so bright that decks their throne;
Each for this pearl his crown would quit,
And turn a rustic, or a cit.
Mark, tho’ the blessing's lost with ease,
'Tis not recover'd when you please.
How fruitless the physician's skill,
How vain the penitential pill,
The marble monuments proclaim,
The humbler turf confirms the same.
Prevention is the better cure;
So says the proverb, and 'tis sure.
Let temp'rance constantly preside, -
Our best physician, friend and guide? *
Would you to wisdom make pretence,
Proud to be thought a man of sense —
Let temp'rance (always friend to fame)
With steady hand direct your aim ;
For they who slight her golden rules,
In Wisdom's volume stand for fools.
THE PROVERBS OF THREESCORE :
Affectionately addressed to Eighteen.
By NATHANIEL BLOOMFIELD.
HAve you seen the delightless abode,
Where Penury nurses Despair;
Where comfortless Life is a load
Age wishes no longer to bear.
Ah! who, in this lazerhouse pent,
His lone wailings sends up to the skies 2
'Tis the man whose young prime was mispent;
'Tis he who so bitterly sighs.
His youth, sunk in profligate waste,
Left no comforts life's evening to cheer;
He must only its bitterness taste,
No friend, no kind relative near.
His children by want forc’d to roam,
* Are aliens wherever they are ;
They have long left his desolate home
Have left him alone to despair.
3 Have you seen the delectable place, Where honor'd age loves to abide; Where Plenty, and Pleasure, and Peace, With Wirtue and Wisdom reside : Autumn's fruits he has carefully stor'd; His herds willing tributes abound: And the smiles of his plenteous board, By his children's children are crown'd.
- 4. And his is the godlike delight, The power to relieve the distress'd : Who can contemplate blessings so bright, And not wish to be equally bless'd. Then let not the means be forgot: Remember, and mark this great truth; 'Twas not chance fix’d his prosperous lot, 'Twas the virtues of provident Youth.
If such a bright prospect can charm,
If you feel emulation arise,
If your juvenile bosom is warm
With the hope to be wealthy and wise;
O cherish the noble design,
The maxims of Prudence pursue,
Application and Industry join,
Thus Plenty and Peace will you woo.