The beasts that roam over the plain,
My form with indifference see,
They are so unacquainted with man,
Their tameness is shocking to me.

Society, friendship, and love,
Divinely bestow'd upon man,
Oh had I the wings of a dove,
How soon would I taste you again!

My sorrows I then might assuage
In the ways of religion and truth,
Might learn from the wisdom of age,
And be cheer'd by the sallies of youth.

Religion! what treasure untold
Resides in that heav'nly word!
More precious than silver and gold,
Or all that this earth could afford.

But the sound of the church-going bell
Those vallies and rocks never heard,
Ne'er sigh'd at the sound of a knell,
Or smil❜d when a sabbath appear❜d.

Ye winds that have made me your sport, Convey to this desolate shore

Some cordial endearing report

Of a land I shall visit no more.

My friends do they now and then send
A wish or a thought after me?
O tell me I yet have a friend,

Though a friend I am never to see.

How fleet is the glance of the mind, Compar'd with the speed of its flight! The tempest itself lags behind,

And the swift-wing'd arrows of light.

When I think on my own native land,
In a moment I seem to be there;
But alas! recollection at hand,

Soon hurries me back to despair.

But the sea fowl is gone to her nest,
The beast is laid down in his lair,
Ev'n here is a season of rest,
And I to my cabin repair.

There is mercy in ev'ry place,

And mercy, encouraging thought!

Gives even affliction a grace,

And reconciles man to his lot.

Cowper.

INSCRIPTION FOR A COPPICE.

HEEDLESS wanderer, come not here With clamourous voice, or footstep rude, For harmony's sweet sake forbear

To violate this solitude.

For ne'er the nightingale forsakes

This haunt when hawthorn blossoms spring; Veil'd in the shade of tangled brakes, She calls her nestlings forth to sing.

Hark! catch you not their warbling wild,
That softly flow the leaves among?
Now loudly shrill, now sweetly mild
The descant of their thrilling song.

The earliest primrose of the year
Beneath delights its flowers to spread;
The clustering hare-bell lingers near
The cowslip's dew-bespangled bed.

And while the western gales allay
The keenness of the noontide heat,
They tell where, pleas'd to shun the day,
The vi'let scents her low retreat.

See, sparkling with a trembling gleam,
The rivulet meand'ring flows;
While in the bosom of the stream,
The virgin lily quiv'ring blows.

If tempted by the twilight shade,

Beneath the smooth-leaf'd beech to lay, Soon will the charms that dress the glade, Bring sweet oblivion of your way.

But, heedless wand'rer, come not here,
This feast was not prepar'd for thee;
Unless thy heart feels nought more dear,
Than nature and simplicity.

Universal Magazine.

EPIGRAM.

So zealously why will my friend

To take a wife incessant prcss me? I'm well aware what joys attend,

If heaven in my choice should bless me.

But can one be too circumspect?
'Tis dang❜rous vent'ring on a wife!
Some sound philosophers direct

-A man should think on't all his life.

M. de Maucroix.

ODE TO FOLLY.

FOLLY adieu! here ends thy reign, And all thy light fantastic train; From midnight scenes of fancied joy, Where laughter grins at every toy, Thy constant votary before

Thy presence flies-to come no more.

No more shall Ceres' cup prevail,
Tho' Comus and his rout assail,
Ne'er cheat my senses o'er again
With transient joys-for years of pain,
Where seeming bliss and seeming good
So late, alas! are understood.

How pleas'd, amid the noisy crew,
Was I with every scene in view,
The loose wrote song, the trifling jest
With joy was heard, with joy exprest,
While modest sense, with bashful grace,
Oft turn'd aside to hide her face.

How strange it is! the froward mind
Knowing how short the space assign'd
To crawl on earth, must still go on
To grasp what's in possession gone,