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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,
Harangu'd him thus right eloquent.
Did you admire my lamp, quoth he,
As niuch as I your minstrelsy,
You would ablior to do ine wrong,
As much as I to spoil your song ;
For 'twas the self-same pow'r divine
Taught you to sing, anr me to shine ;
That you with musick, 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 Of hirn that creeps, and him that flies
STARVED TO DEATH IN HIS CAGE
TIME was when I was free as air,
The thistle's downy seed niy fare,
My drink the morning dew;
I perch'd at will on ev'ry spray,
My form genteel, my plunago gay,
My strains for ever new.
But gaudy plumage, sprightly strain,
And form genteel, were all in vain,
And of a transient date ;
For cauglit, and cag'd, and starv'd to death,
In dying sighs my little breath
Soon pass'd the wiry grato.
Thanks gentle swain, for all iny woes,
And thanks for this effectual close
And cure of ev'ry ill!
More cruelty could nono express ;
And I, if you had shown me less,
Ilad been your pris'nor still.
THE pine-apples in triple row,
Were basking hot, and all in blow;
A bee of most discerning taste
Perceiv'd the fragrance as he pass'ı,
On onger wing the spoiler came,
And search'd for crannies in the frame,
Urgd his attempt on ev'ry side,
To ev'ry pane his trunk applied;
But still in vain, the frame was tight,
And only pervious to the light;
Thus having wasted half the day,
He trimm'd his flight another way.
Methinks, I said, in thee I find
The sin and madness of mankind.
To joys forbidden nan aspires,
Consunes his soul with vain desires ;
Folly the spring of his pursuit,
And disappointment all the fruit.
While Cynthio ogles, as she passes,
The nyinplı between two chariot glasses,
Sho is the pine-apple, and he
The silly unsuccessful bee.
The maid, who vicws with pensive air
The show-glass fraught with glitl’ring ware,
Sees watches, bracelets, rings, and lockets,
But sighs at thought of empty pockets,
Like thine, ber appetite is keen,
But all the cruel glass between.
Our dear delights are often such,
Expos'd to view but not lo touch;
The siglt our foolish heart inilurica,
Wo long for pine-apples in frams;
With hopeless wislı one looks and lingers;
Ono breaks the glass, and cuts his fingerx;
But they whom truth and wisdom lead,
Can gather honey froin it weed.
1. RECEIVE, dear friend, the truths I teach, So shalt thou live beyond the roach
Of adverse Fortune's pow'r ;
Not always tempt the distant deep,
Tror always timorously creep
Along the treach'rous sliore.
He that holds fast the golden mcan,
And lives contentedly between
The little and the great,
Feels not the wants that pinch the poor, ,
Nor plagues, that haunt the rich nian's door,
Imbitt'ring all his state.
The tallest pine feels most the pow'r
Of wintry blasts ; the loftiest tower
Comes heaviest to the ground ;
The bolts that spare the mountain'u side,
His cloud-capt eminence dividio,
And spread tho ruin round.
T'he well-inforind philosopher
Rejoices with a wholesome fear,
And liopes in spite of pain ;
If winter bellow from the north,
Soon the sweet spring comes dancing forth,
And nature laughs again.
What if thino Ilcav'n be overcast,
The dark appearance will not last;
Expect a brighter sky.
The God that strings the silver low,
Awakes sometimes the muses too
And lays his arrows by.
If hindrances obstruct thy way,
Thy magnanimity display,
And let thy strength be seen ;
But oh! if Fortune fill thy sail
With inore than a propitious galo,
Take half thy canvass in.
A REFLECTION ON THE FOREGOING ODE
AND is this all? Can reason do no more,
Tlan bid me shun the deep, and dread the shore,
Sweet moralist ? aflnat on life's rough sea,
T'he Christian has an art lunknown to thco.
He holds no parley with unmanly fears;
Where duty bids, le confidently stcers,
Faces a thousand dangers at her call,
And, trusting in his God, surmounts then el