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And in myself am lost! at Home a Stranger, Thought wanders up and down, surpriz'd, aghast, And wondering at her cnun: How Reason reels 1

0 what a Miracle to Man is Man,
Triumphantly distress'd ! what Joy, what Dread!
Alternately transported, and alarm'd!

What can preserve my Lise ? or what destroy?
An Angel's Arm can't snatch me from the Grave;
Legions of Angels can't consine me There.

A PRATER. Young.

OThou great Arbiter of Lise and Death!
Nature's immortal, immaterial Sun I .
Whose all prolisic Beam late call'd me sorth
From Darkness, teeming Darkness, where I lay
The Worm's inserior, and in Rank, beneath
The Dust I tread on, high to bear my Brow;
To drink the Spirit of the golden Day,
And triumph in Existence; and could'st know
No Motive but my Bliss; and hast ordain'd
A Rise in Blessing! with the Patriarch's Joy,
Thy Call I sollow to the Land unknown;

1 trust in thee, and know in whom I trust;
Or Lise, or Death, is equal; neither weighs,
All Weight in this—O let me;live to Thee!

The Darkness of Providence. A D D I S O N .

THE Ways of Heaven are dark and intricate,
Puzzled in Mazes, and perplex'd with
Our Understanding traces them in vain,

Lost and bewilder'd in the fruitless Search;


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■3or sees with how much Art the Windings run, ^or where the regular Confusion ends.

Cato'/ Soliloquy on the Immortality of the Soul.


IT must be so—Plato, thou reason'st well!
Else whence this pleasing Hope, this sond Desire,
This Longing after Immortality?
Or whence this secret Dread, and inward Horror,
Of falling into Nought? why shrinks the Soul
Back on herself, and startles at Destruction?
"Tis the Divinity that stirs within us,
'Tis Heaven itself that points out an Hereafter,
And intimates Eternity to Man.
Eternity! thou pleasing, dreadful Thought!
Through what Variety of untry'd Being,
Through what new Scenes and Changes must we pass!
The wide, th' unbounded Prospect lies besore me;
But Shadows, Clouds, and Darkness rest upon it.
Here will I hold. If there's a Power above us,
(And that there is all Nature cries aloud
Through all her Works) he must delight in Virtue;
And that which he delights in must be happy.

The Sick Man and the Angel. Gay.

IS there no Hope? the sick Man faid,.
The silent Doctor shook his Head,
And took his Leave with Signs of Sorrow,
Despairing of his Fee To-morrow.

'- When thus the Man, with gasping Breath,
I feel the chilling Wound of Death,

F 2 Since Since I must bid this World adieu,

Let me my sormer Lise review.

I grant, my Bargains well were made,

But all Men over-reach in Trade;

5Tis Self-Desence in each Prosession;

Sure Self-Desence is no Transgression.

The little Portion in my Hands,

By good Security on Lands,

Is well increas'd. If unawares,

My Justice to myself and Heirs,

Hath let my Debtor rot in Jail,

For Want of good sufficient Bail;

If I by Writ, or Bond, or Deed,

Reduc'd a Family to Need,

My Will hath made the World Amends;

My Hope on Charity depends,

When I am number'd with the Dead,

And all my pious Gifts are read,

By Heaven and Earth 'twill then be known,

My Charities were amply shown.

An Angel came. Ah Friend! he cry'd,
No more in flatt'ring Hope conside.
Can thy good Deeds in sormer Times
Outweigh the Balance of thy Crimes?
What Widow or what Orphan prays
To crown thy Lise with Length of Days?
A pious Action's in thy Power,
Embrace with Joy the happy Hour;
Now, while you draw the vital Air,
Prove your Intention is sincere:
This Instant give an Hundred Pound;
Your Neighbours want, and you abound.


But why such Haste, the sick Man whines,
Vho knows as yet what Heaven.designs ?.
Perhaps I may recover still:
That Sum and more are in my Will.

Fool, fays the Vision, now 'tis plain,
Your Lise, your Soul, your Heav'n was Gain;.
Brom every Side, with all your Might,
"You scrap'd, and scrap'd beyond your Right,

-And after Death would fain atone,

% giving what is not your own.

While there is Lise, there's Hope, he cry'd: Then why such Haste? so groan'd and dy'd.

The Hare and many Friends. Gay.

FRIENDSHIP, like Love, is but a Name,
Unless to one you stint the Flame.
The Child, whom many Fathers share,
Hath seldom known a Father's Care;
Tis thus in Friendships ; who depend'
On many, rarely sind a Friend.

A Hare, who, in a civil Way,
Complied with every Thing, like Gay,
Was known by all the bestial Train,
Who haunt the Wood, or graze the Plain;
Her Care was, never to offend,
And ev'ry Creature was her Friend.

As sorth she went at early Dawn,
To taste the dew-besprinkled lawn,

F 3 Behind


Behind she hears the Hunter's Cries,
And from the deep-mouth'd Thunder sties;
She starts, she stops, me, pants for Breath,
She hears the near Advance of Death,
She doubles to mislead the Hound,
And measures back her mazy Round;
'Till, fainting in the public Way,
Half-dead with Fear she gasping lay.

What Transport in her Bosom grew,
When sirst the Horse appear'd in View I

Let me, fays she, your Back ascend,
And ewe my Sasety to a Friend;
You know my Feet betray my Flight,
To Friendship ev'ry Burden's light.

The Horse reply'd, jioor honest Puss,
It grieves my Heart to see thee thus;
Be comforted, Relief is near;
For all your Friends are in the Rear.

She next the stately Bull implor'd;
And thus reply'd the mighty Lord:
Since ev'ry Beast alive can tell
That I sincerely wish you well,
I may, without Offence, pretend
To take the Freedom of a Friend;
Love calls me hence: a fav'rite Cow
Expects me near yon Barley Mow;
And when a Lady's in the Case,
You know all other Things give Place.
To leave you thus might seem unkind;
But see the Goat is just behind.


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