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See, a long Race thy spacious Courts adorn; See future Sons and Daughters yet unborn In crouding Ranks on ev'ry Side arise, Demanding Lise, impatient sor the Skies! See ba.rb'rous Nations at thy Gates attend, Walk in thy Light, and in thy Temple bend; See thy bright Altars throng'd with prostrate Kings, And heap'd with Products of Sabaecm Springs! For thee Idume's spicy Forests blow, And Seeds of Gold in Ofhyr's Mountains glow. See Heav'n its sparkling Portals wide display, And break upon thee in a Flood of Day! No more the rising Sun shall gild the Morn, Nor Evening Cynthia sill her silver Horn, But lost, dissolv'd in thy superior Rays, One Tide of Glory, one unclouded Blaze O'erflow thy Courts: The Light himself .shall shine Reveal'd, and God's eternal Day be thine! The Seas shall waste, the Skies in Smoke decay, Rocks fall to Dust, and Mountains melt away; But six'd his Word, his faving Pow'r remains, . Thy Realm sor ever lasts, thy own Mejjiah reigns.

The Knowledge of Futurity wisely concealed. Po P E.

HEAV'N from all Creatures hides the Book of
Fate,
All but the Page prescrib'd, their present State;
From Brutes what Men, from Men what Spirits know;
Or who could suffer Being here below?
The Lamb thy Riot dooms to bleed To-day,
Had he thy Reason, would he skip and play?

Pleas'd

Pleas'd to the last, he crops the fiow'ry Food,

And licks the Hand just rak'd to shed his Blood.

Oh Blindness to the Mature kindly giv'n,

That each may sill the Circle mark'd by Heav'n,

Who fees with equal Eye, as God of all,

A Hero perish, or a Sparrow fall,

Atoms, or Systems, into Ruin hurl'd,

And now a Bubble burst, and now a World!

On HAPPINESS. Pope.

OHappiness ! our Being's End and Aim!
Good, Pleasure, Ease, Content, whate'er thy
Name:
That something still which prompts th' eternal Sigh,
For which we bear to live, nor sear to die;
Which still so near us, yet beyond us lies,
O'erlook'd, seen double, by the Fool—and Wise,
Plant of celestial Seed ! if dropt below,
Say, in what mortal Soil thou deign'st to grow?
Fair-opening to some Court's propitious Shrine, •
Or deep with Diamonds in the flaming Mine,
Twin'd with the Wreaths Parnassian Laurels yield,
Or reap'd in Iron Harvests of the Field?
Where grows—where grows it not?—If vain our Toil,
We ought to blame the Culture, not the Soil.
Fix'd to no Spot is Happiness sincere;
'Tis no where to be sound, or ev'ry where.

Ask of the Learn'd the Way, the Learn'd are blind,
This bids to serve, and that to shun Mankind:
Some place the Bliss in Action, some in Ease,
Those call it Pleasure, and Contentment these*

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Take Nature's Path, and mad Opinions leave, All States can reach it, and all Heads conceive; Obvious her Goods, in no extreme they dwell, There needs but thinking right, and meaning well, And mourn our various Portions as we please, Equal is common Sense, and common Ease.

Order is Heav'ns sirst Law; and this consest, Some are, and must be, greater than the Rest, More rich, more wise: But who insers from hence, That such are happier, shocks all common Sense: Heav'n to Mankind impartial we consess, If all were equal in their Happiness: But mutual Wants theirHappiness increase, All Nature's Diff'rence keeps all Nature's Peace. Condition, Circumstance, is not the Thing; Bliss is the fame, in subject or in King; In who obtain Desence, or who desend; In him who is, or him who sinds a Friend. Heav'n breathes thro' ev'ry Member of the Whole One common Blessing, has one common Soul.

Know, all the Good that Individuals sind, Or God and Nature meant to mere Mankind, Reason's whole Pleasure, all the Joys of Sense, Lie in three Words, Health, Peace, and Competent

The MAN of ROSS. Pope.

BUT all our Praises why should Lords engross.'
Rise honest Muse! and sing the Ma N of Ross:
Pleas'd Vaga echoes thro' her winding Bounds,
And rapid Severn hoarse Applause resounds,

Who

Who hang with Woods yon Mountains sultry Brow i
From the dry Rock who bade the Waters flow f
Nor to the Skies in useless Columns toft,
Or in proud Falls magnisicently lost,
But clear and artless pouring thro' the Plain
Health to the Sick, and Solace to the Swain.
Whose Causeway parts the Vale with fliady Rows?
"Whose Seats the weary Traveller repose?
Who seeds yon Alms-house, neat, but void os State,
Where Age and Want sit smiling at the Gate?
Who taught that Heav'n-directed Spire to rise?
The Man of Ross each lisping Babe replies..
Behold the Market-place with Poor o'erlpread!
TkMkN ofRoss divides the weekly Bread:
Him portion'd Maids, apprentic'd Orphans blest,
The Young who labour'd, and the Old who rest.
Is any sick r The Man of Ross relieves,
Prescribes, attends, the Med'cine takes and gives.
Is there a Variance! Enter but his Door,
Baulk'dare the Courts, and Contest is no more.
Despairing Quacks with Curses fled the Place,
And vile Attornies, now an useless Race.
"Thrice happy Man ! enabled to pursue
"What all so wish, but want the Pow'r to do.
*' Oh fay, what Sums that gen'rous Hand supply?
*' What Mines to swell that boundless Charity?
Of Debts and Taxes, Wife or Children clear,
This Man possest—sive hundred Pounds a Year. *•
BluJh Grandeur, blush"; proud Courts withdraw your*
Ye little Stars ! hide your diminish'dRays. [Blaze.

.'' And what ? No Monument, Inscription, Stone? "His Race, his Form, his Name almost unknowa -? C Who

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Who builds a Church to Go D , and not to Fame,
Will never mark the Marble with his Name.

The Omnipresence of GOD, and Submission to kir
Providence. Pope.

ALL are but Parts of one stupendous Whole,
Whose Body Nature is, and God the Soul:
That, chang'd thro' all, and yet in all the fame;
Great in the Earth, as in th' æthereal Frame;
Warms in the Sun, refreshes in the Breeze,
Glows in the Stars, and blossoms in the Trees;
Lives thro' all Life, extends thro' all Extent,
Spreads undivided, operates unspent;
Breathes in our Soul, insorms our mortal Part;
As full, as persect, in a Hair as Heart;
As full, as persect, in vile Man that mourns,
As the rapt Seraph, that adores and burns;
To him no high, no low, no great, no small;
He sills, he bounds, connects, and measures all.

Cease then, nor Order Impersection name:
Our proper Bliss depends on what we blame.
Know thy own Point; This kind, this due Degree,
Of Blindness, Weakness, Heav'n bestows on thee,
.Sjibmit^^-Jnjhisj or any other Sphere,
Secure to be as blest as thou canst bear: .

fe in the Hand of one disposing Pow'r, r in the natal, or the mortal Hour. All Nature is but Art, unknown to thee; All Chance, Direction, which thou canst not see; All Discord, Harmony, not understood; All partial Evil, univerfal Good:

And,

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