ON A SIMILAR OCCASION,

FOR THE YEAR 1789.

....

Placidaque ibi demum morte quievit. VIRG. There calm at length he breath'd his soul away.

“O MOST delightful hour by man

Experienc'd here below,
The hour that terminates his span,

His folly, and his wo!

Worlds should not bribe me back to tread

Again life's dreary waste,
To see again my day o'erspread

With all the gloomy past.

My home henceforth is in the skies,

Earth, seas, and sun, adieu ! All Heav'n unfolded to my eyes,

I have no sight for you.”

So spake Aspasio, firm possessid

of faith's supporting rod, Then breath'd his soul into its rest,

The bosom of his God.

He was a man among the few

Sincere on virtue's side ;
And all his strength from Scripture drew.

To hourly use applied.

That rule he priz’d, by that he fear'd,

Ile hated, hop'd, and lov’d;. Nor ever frown'd, or sad appear'd

But when his heart had rov'd.

For he was frail as thou or I,

And evil felt within ;
But when he felt it heav'd a sigh,

And loath'd the thought of sin.
Such liv'd Aspasio ; and at last

Call’d up from Earth to Heav'n,
The gulf of death triumphant pass’d,

By gales of blessing driv'n.
His joys be mine, each Reader cries,

When my last hour arrives :
Thoy shall be yours, my verse roplies,

Such only be your lives.

ON A SIMILAR OCCASION,

FOR TUE YEAR 1790.

Buchanan.

No commonentem recta sperne.
Dospise not my good counsel.

HE who sits from day to day,

Where the prison'd lark is hung, Heedless of his loudest lay,

Hardly knows that he has sung.

Where the watchman in his round

Nightly lifts his voice on high, None, accustom'd to the sound,

Wakes the sooner for his cry.

So your verseman I and clerk,

Yearly in my song proclaim
Death at hand-yourselves his mark-

And the foes unerring aim.
Duly at my time I come,

Publishing to all aloud-
Soon the grave must be your home,

And your only suit, a shroud.

But the monitory strain,

Oft repeated in your ears, Seems to sound too much in vain,

Wins no notice, wakes no fears.

Can a truth, by all confess'd

Of such magnitude and weight, Grow, by being oft impress’d,

Trivial as a parrot's prate ?

Pleasure's call attention wins,

Hear it often as we may; New as ever seem our sins,

Though committed every day.

Death and Judgment, Heaven and Hell.

These alone, so often heard, No more move us than the bell,

When some stranger is interr’d.

O thon, ere the turf or tomb

Cover us from every eye, Spirit of instruction come,

Make us learn, that we must die.

ON A SIMILAR OCCASION,

FOR THE YEAR 1792.

Feliz, qui potuit rerum cognoscere causas,
Atque metus omnes ei inexorabile fatum
Subjecit pedibus, strepitumque Acherontis avari!

Virg
Happy the mortal, who has trac'd effects
To their first cause, cast fear beneath his feet,
And death, and roaring Hell's voracious fires'

THANKLESS for favours from on high

Man thinks he fades too soon; Though 'tis his privilege to die,

Would he improve the boon.

But be, not wise enough to scan

His best concerns aright,
Would gladly stretch life's little span
To
ages,

if he might.

Το ages

in a world of pain, To ages, where he goes Gall’d by affliction's heavy chain,

And hopeless of repose.

Strange fondness of the human heart,

Enamour'd of its harm!
Strange worid, that costs it so much smart,

And still has pow'r to charm.

Whence has the world her magick pow'r?

Why deem we death a foe? Recoil from weary life's best hour,

And covet longer wo?

The cause is Conscience-Conscience oft

Her tale of guilt renews ; ·
Her voice is terrible, though soft,

And dread of death ensues.

Then, anxious to be longer spar'd,

Man mourns his fleeting breath: All evils then seem light, compar'd

With the approach of Death.

'Tis Judgment shakes him, there's the fear

That prompts the wish to stay: He has incurr'd a long arrear,

And must despair to pay.

Pay!—follow Christ, and all is paid.

His death your peace ensures ; Think on the grave where he was laid,

And calm descend to yours. VOL. II.

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