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"On thee attends a radiant quire,
Soft smiling Peace, and downy Rest,
"O sent from heav'n to haunt the grove,
Where squint-ey'd Envy ne'er can come; Nor pines the cheek with luckless love, Nor anguish chills the living bloom;
"But spotless Beauty, rob'd in white, Sits on yon moss-green hill reclin'd; Serene as heaven's unsully'd light,
And pure as Delia's gentle mind:
"Grant, heav'nly Power! thy peaceful sway May still my ruder thoughts control;
Thy hand to point my dubious way,
"Far in the shady sweet retreat
Let thought beguile the lingering hour;
Let quiet court the mossy seat,
And twining olives form the bower.
"Let dove-ey'd Peace her wreath bestow; And oft sit listening in the dale,
While night's sweet warbler from the bough Tells to the grove her plaintive tale.
"Soft as in Delia's snowy breast,
Let each consenting passion move,
And all its blissful dreams be love."
VIRTUE AND ORNAMENT.
TO THE LADIES.
BY DR. FORDYCE.
THE diamond's and the ruby's rays
Shine with a milder, finer flame, And more attract our love and praise Than Beauty's self, if lost to Fame.
But the sweet tear in Pity's eye
Transcends the diamond's brightest beams;
And the soft blush of Modesty
More precious than the ruby seems.
The glowing gem, the sparkling stone,
But Truth and Innocence alone
Can still engage the good and wise.
No glitt'ring ornament or show
Will aught avail in grief or pain: Only from inward worth can flow Delight that ever shall remain,
Behold, ye fair, your lovely Queen!
VIRTUE AND PLEASURE.
BY THE SAME.
me, VIRTUE! is it true!
Does PLEASURE really dwell with you?
The sons of sense say, No.
They say, that all who mind your rules
And every joy forego.
They say, and openly maintain,
That your rewards are care and pain;
And while on heav'n you preach,
At best 'tis but a phantom fair,
The soul is mortal, melts in air,
And heav'n shall never reach.
Or tell me, PLEASURE! what you feel;
PLEASURE, Sweet power, to Nature dear!
I never wish to be austere;
I seek the happiest state.
PLEASURE replies with modest smile, "Let not a name thy heart beguile;
My name the sons of sense
Have oft assum'd: but, trust me, they From happiness are far astray;
'Tis all a mere pretence.
"To me they boast alliance near;
"CIRCE, my rival, harlot base!
Her blinded followers she betrays;
"Mine is a purer, nobler rise,
VIRTUE, my parent, from the skies
With me, the child she bore to LOVE;
And here of highest worth!
"VIRTUE, I grant, is often tried
But trial strengthens: conscience cheers,
"Of active life the hard turmoils, The patriot's cares, the hero's toils, In brighter triumphs end.
Of friendship, sympathy, the pains,
But who can paint the heartfelt glow
Faith's firm repose, hope's vision bright,
Of God's approving face the light,
"Nor deem such bliss an empty form; 'Tis solid, will defy the storm,
And keep the breast serene; When all the merriment of Vice, A low-born vapour, sudden flies, And leaves a void within,