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Is all the proud and mighty have-
Between the cradle and the grave.

And see the rivers, how they run
Through woods and meals, in shade and sun;-
Sometines swift, sometimes slow,
Wave succeeding wave, they go
A various journey to the deep,
Like human life to endless sleep!
Thus is Nature's vesture wrought,
To instruct. our wand'ring thought ;
Thus she dresses green

and gay,
To disperse our-cares away.

Ever charming, ever new,
When will the landscape tire the view?
The fountain's fall, the river's flow,
The woody valleys, warm and low;
The windy summit, wild and high,
Roughly rushing on the sky;
The pl-asant seat, the ruin'd. tow'r,
The naked roek, the shady, bow'r :
The town and village, dome and farm,
Each gives each a double charm,
As pearls upon an Ærbiop's arm.'

See on the mountain's southern side,
Where the prospect opeus wide,
Where the evening gilds the tide, -
How close and small the hedges tie!
Whap streaks of ineadows cross the eye!
A step, methinks, may pass the stream:
So little distant dangers seem;
So we inistake the future's face,
Ey'd through hope's deluding glass,
As yon summits soft and fair,
Clad in colours of the air,
Which to those who journey near,
Barren, brown, and rough appear;
Still we tread the same coarse way,
The present's still a cloudy day.

I with myself agrees
And never covet what I see!

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Content me with an humble shade,
My passions tam'd, my wishes laid;
For while our wishes wildly roll,
We banish Quiet from the soul;
"Tis thus the busy beat the air ;
And misers gather wealth and care:

Now, e'en now, my joys run high,
As on the mountain-turf I lie;
While the wauton Zephyr sings,
And in the vale perfumes his wings;
While the waters murmur deep;
While the shepherd charms his sheep;
While the birds unbounded fly,
And with music fill the sky;
Now, t'en now, my joys run high.

Be full, ye courts ! be great who will;
Search for Peace with all your skill;
Open wide the lofty door,
Seek her on the marble floor:
In vain ye search, she is not there;
In vain ye search the domes of Care !
Grass and flowers Quiet treads,
On the meads and mountain-heads
Along with Pleasure, cloșe ally'd,
Ever by each other's side:
And often by the murm’ring rilly-
Hears the thrush, while all is still
Within the groves of Grongar Hill.

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Daughter of Jove, relentless pow's, Thou tamer of the human breast, Whose iron scourge and tort'ring hour, The bad affright, amict the best!

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Bound in thy adamantine chain,
The proud are taught to taste of pain,
And purple tyrants vainly groan
With pangs unfelt before, unpitied and alone.

When first thy sire to send on earth
Virtue, his darling child, design’d,
To thee he gave the heav'nly birth,
And bade to form her infant mind.
Stern rugged nurse! thy rigid lore
With patience many a year she bore:
What Sorrow was, thou bar’st her know,
And from her own she learn'd lo melt at others wo.

Scar'd at thy frown terrific, fly
Self-pleasing Folly's idle brood,
Wild Laughter, Noise, and thoughtless Joy,
And leave us leisure to be good.
Light they disperse, and with them go
The summer Friend, the flatı’ring Foe;
By vain Prosperity receiv'd,
To her they vow their truth, and are again believ'd.

Wisdom, in sable garb array'd,
Immers’d in rapt'rous thought profound,
And Melanchody, silent maid,
With leaden eye, that loves the ground,
Still on thy solemn steps attend:
Warm Charity, the genral friend,
With Justice, to herself severe,
And Pity, dropping soft the sadly-pleasing tear.

Oh, gently on thy suppliant's head,
Dread Goddess, lay thy chast'ning hand!
Not in thy Gorgon terrors clad,
Nor circled with the vengeful band
(As by the impious thou art seen).
With thund'ring voice, and threat’ning mien,
With screaming Horror's funeral cry,
Despair, and fell Disease, and ghastly Poverty.

Thy form henign, oh Goddess ! wear,
Thy njilder influence impart,
Thy philosophic train be thtre
To soften, not to wound my heart:
The gen’sous spark extinct revive,
Teach me to love and to forgive,
Exact my own defects to scan,
What others are to feel, and know myself a man.






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Ye distant spires, ye antique towers, .
Tha: crown the wal’ry glade,
Where grateful Science still adores
Her Henry's holy shade:-
And that from the stately brow
OF WINDSOR's heights th’expanse below...
Of grove, of lawn, of mead survey,
Whose turf, whose shade, whose flowers among
Wanders the hoary THAMES along
Hiš silver-winding way.

Ah, happy hills ! ah, pleasing shade!
Ah, fields below'd in vain,
Where once my careless childhood stray'd,
A stranger yet to pain!
I feel the gales that from ye blow,
A momentary bliss bestow,-
As waving fresh their gladsome wing,
My weaxy soul they 'seem to sooth,
And, redolent of joy and youth,
To breathe a second spring.

Say, father Thames, (for thou hast seen Full inany a sprightly race, Disporting on thy margent green, The paths of pleasure trace,) Who foremost now delight to cleave, With pliant arms, thy glassy wave? The captiye linnet which inthrall? What idle progeny succeed To chase the rolling circle's speed, Or

urge the flying ball?

Whilst some, on earnest bus'ness bent, Their murm’ring labours ply Gainst graver hours, that bring constraint To sweeten liberty : Some bold adveniurers disdain The limits of their little reign, And unknown regions dare descry: Still as they run they look bebiud, They hear a voice in every wind, And snatch a fearful joy.

Gay hope is theirs by fancy fed, ;
Less pleasing when possess'd;
The tear furgot as soon as shed,
The sunshine of the breast;
Theirs buxom health of rosy hue,
Wild wit, invention ever new,
And lively cheer, of vigour born;
The thoughtiess day, the easy night,
The spirits pure, the slumbers light,
That fly th' approach of morn.

Alas, regardless of their doom,
The litule victims play!
No sense have they of ills to come,
No care beyond to-day:
Yet see, how all around them wait
The ministers of human fate,

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