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The long remember'd beggar was his guiest,
Whole beard descending swept his aged breait :
The ruin'd spendthritt, now no longer proud,
Claim'd kindred there, and had his claims allow'd;
The broken foldier, kindly bade to stay,
Sat by his fire, an:/ talk'd the night away:
Wept o'er his wounds, or tales of sorrow done,
Shoulder'd his crutch, and thew'd how fields were won.
Pleas’d with his guests, the good man learn'd to glow,
And quite forgot their vices in their woe;
Careless their merits, or their faults to scan,
His pity gave ere charity began.
Thus to relieve the wretched was his price,
And ev'n his failings lean'd to virtue’s lide!
But in his duty prompt at every call,
He watch'd and wept, he pray'úl and felt for all ;
And, as a bird each fond endearment tries
To tempt its new-fledg‘d offspring to the skies,
He try'd each art, reprov'd-each dull delay,
Allur'd to brighter worlds, and led the way.
Belide the bed where parting life was laid,
And förrow, guilt, and pains, by turns dismay d,
The reveren: champion stoad. At his controul,
Detpair and anguish fled the struggling foul,
Comfort came down, the trembling wretch to raise,
And his last faltering accents whisper'd praise.
At church, with meek and unaffected grace,
His looks adorn'd the venerable place;
Truth from his lips prevail'd with double sway,
And fools who came to scoff, remaind to pray.
The service palt, around the pious man,
With ready. zeal, each honest rustic ran!
Ev'n children follow'd with endearing wile,
And pluck'd his gown, to share the good man's smile.
His ready smile a parent's warinth expreft,
Their welfare pleas'd him, and their cares diftrest;
To them his heart, his love, his grief were given ;
But all his serious thoughts had rest in Heaven.
As some tall cliff that lifts its awful form,
Swells from the vale, and midway leaves the storm,
Though round its breast the rolling clouds are spread,
Eternal sunshine fettles on its head.
AQUARIUS rules the frozen skies,
Deep frowning clouds on clouds arise,
Fraught with the thunder's roar;
With fury heaves the raging main,
When foaming billows laih in vain
The hoarte resounding more.
No flow'ry vale now charms the eye,
No tuneful warblers of the fky
Now cheer the ling'ring hours ;
genial ray the groves illume,
No Zephyrs waft their mild perfume
From fighs o'er vernal fowers.
Though blooming scenes are now no more,
That aid the raptur'd soul to soar,
Poetic thoughts refine;
Yet still the moralizing page,
To warn an unattentive age,
These hoary scenes combine.
With this I hail the opening year,
Address the God, whose works appear
Through each harmonious round;
Who rules, serenly rules the storm,
Who gave the lurid lightnings form,
Whose thunders rock the ground.
O thou! alike where perfect day
In bright refulgent glories play
Around thy awful throne !
When seraplis glow with sacred fires,
When angels tune celestial lyres,
To hymn thy praife alone !
Ştill may thy providential care
With blessings crown the rising year!
Impending ills retrain!
Thy wisdom guide my youthful muse!
Thy sacred eloquence diffuse,
And confecrate my strain!
While thus revolving seasons roll,
Obsequious to thy wise controul,
Obedient to thy plan;
With silent eloquence they preach,
The most important lessons teach
To cold unthinking man.
Behold thyself reflected here !
The Spring proclaims thine infant year y
Gay life, the Summer's bloom ;
Mild Autumn fpeaks maturer age,
Confirms thee fool, or hails thee fage;
While Winter thews the tomb.
Or view the image of thy foul,
As now the mountain surges roll
In wild tumultuous roar;
Fit emblem of the wrathful mind,
To anger's tyrant sway consign'd,
Whére reason rules no more.
Unlike its placid form, serene,
When Zephyr breathing o'er the scenes
Sheds balmy peace around;
Blefs'd emblem of the conquering foul,
Whose every passion knows controul,
While conscious joys abound!
That this may prove my bounteous Mares
Ascends my ever constant prayer,
To thees all perfect Mind;
O aid me in the arduous strife,
Through each perplexing maze of life,
To all thy ways relign'd!
THROUGH ev'ry part of grief
To which the mimic stage gives birth,
I ne'er as yet with truth could tell,
Where most your various pow'rs excel.
Sometimes amidst the laughing scene,
Blythe Comedy, with jocund mien,
By you in livelier colours drest,
With transport clafp'd you to her breast.
As oft the buskin'd muse appear’d,
With awful brow her scepter rear'd;
Recounted all your laurels won,
And claim'd you for her darling son.
Thus each contending goddefs Itrove,
And each the fairest garland wove.
But which fair nymph could justly boast
Her beauties had engag'd you most,
I doubted much ; 'till, t'other day,
Kind fortune threw me in your way: