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Retire, retire! These tepid aire
Are not the genial brood of May;

That sun with light malignant glares,.
And flatters only to betray.

Stem winter's reign is not yet past—

Lo! while your buds prepare to blow,. On icy pinions comes the blast,

And nips your root, and lays you lowAlas for such ungentle doom!

But I will shield you; and supply A kindlier soil on which to bloom,

A nobler bed on which to die.

Come then—ere yet the morning ray
Has. drank the dew that gems your crests

And drawn your balmiest sweets away!
O come, and grace my Anna's breast.

Ye droop, fond flowers I But, did ye know,
What worth, what goodness there reside,

Your cups with liveliest tints would glow,
And spread their leaves with conscious pride.

For there has liberal nature joined

Her riches to the stores of art, And added to the vigorous mind,

The soft, the sympathising heart.

Come then—ere yet the morning ray

Has drunk the dew that gems your crest,

And draw your balmiest sweets away;
O come, and grace my Anna's breast.

O! I should think,—that fragrant bed
Might I but hope with you to share,—

Years of anxiety repaid,

By one short hour of transport there.

More blest than me, thus shall ye live

Your little day; and, when ye die,
Sweet flowers! the grateful muse shall give

A verse; the sorrowing maid, a sigh.

While I, alas! no distant date,

Mix with the dust from whence I came,

Without a friend to weep my fate,
Without a stone to tell my name.


When gathering clouds wound I view,
And days are dark, and friends are few,
On Him I lean, who not in vain,
Experienced every human pain.
He sees my griefs, allays my fears,
And counts and treasures up my tears.

If aught should tempt my soul to stray
From heavenly wisdom's narrow way:
To fly the good I would pursue,
Or do the thing I would not do:
Still He, 'Who felt temptation's power
Shall guard me in that dangerous hour.

If wounded love my bosom swell,
Despised by those I prized too well;
He shall his pitying aid bestow,
Who felt on earth severer woe;
At once betrayed, denied, or fled,
By those who shared his daily bread.

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When vexing thoughts within me rise,
And, sore dismayed, my spirit dies;
Yet He who vouchsafed to bear
The sickening anguish of despair
Shall sweetly soothe, shall gently dry,
The throbbing heart, the streaming eye.

When mourning o'er some stone I bend,
Which covers all that was a friend;
And from his voice, his hand, his smile,
Divides me for a little while;
Thou, Saviour, mark'st the tears I shed,
For thou didst w«ep o'er Lazarus dead.

And O I when I have safely past
Through «very conflict but the last;
Still, styl unchanging, watch beside
My painful bed—for thou hast died;
Then point to realms of cloudless day,
And wipe the latest tears away.




When some proud son of man returns to earth,
Unknown to glory, but upheld by birth,
The sculptor's art exhausts the pomp of woe,
And storied urns record who rests below;
When all is done, upon the tomb is seen,
Not what he was, but what he should have been r
But the poor dog, in life the firmest friend,
The first to welcome, foremost to defend,
Whose honest heart is still his master's own,
Who labours, fights, lives, breathes for him alone.
Unhonoured falls; unnoticed all his worth,
Denied in heaven the soul he held on earth:
While man, vain insect! hopes to be forgiven,
And claims himself a sole exclusive heaven.
Oh man! thou feeble tenant of an hour,
Debased by slavery, or corrupt by power,
Who knows thee well must quit thee with disgust,
Degraded mass of animated dust!

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