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PITY the forrows of a poor old man!

Whofe trembling limbs have borue him to your
door,

Whofe days are dwindled to the shortest span,
Oh! give relief-and Heav'n will blefs your ftore.

These tatter'd cloaths my poverty bespeak,
These hoary locks proclaim my lengthen'd years;
And many a furrow in my grief-worn cheek
Has been the channel to a ftream of tears.

Yon houfe, erected on the rifing ground,
With tempting afpect drew me from my road,
For plenty.there a refidence has found,

And grandeur a magnificent abode.

(Hard is the fate of the infirm and poor!)
Here craving for a morfel of their bread,
A pamper'd menial forc'd me from the door,
To feek a fhelter in an humbler fhed.

Oh! take me to your hofpitable dome!

Keen blows the wind, and piercing is the cold! Short is my paffage to the friendly tomb, For I am poor and niiferably old.

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Should I reveal the fource of ev'ry grief,
If foft humanity e'er touch'd your breaft,
Your hands would not with-hold the kind relief,
And tears of pity could not be represt.

Heaven fends misfortunes-why fhould we repine?
'Tis Heav'n has brought me to the ftate you fee:
And your condition may be foon like mine,
-The child of forrow-and of mifery.

A little farm was my paternal lot;

Then like the lark I fprightly hail'd the morn;
mom;
But ah! oppreffion forc'd me from my cot,
My cattle dy'd, and blighted was my corn.

My daughter once the comfort of my age!
Lur'd by a villain from her native home,
Is caft abandon'd on the world's wide stage,
And doom'd in fcanty poverty to roam.

My tender wife-sweet foother of my care!
Struck with fad anguifh at the ftern decree,
Fell-ling ring fell, a victim to despair,

And left the world to wretchednefs and me.

Pity the forrows of a poor old man ;

Whofe trembling limbs have borne him to your door,

Whofe days are dwindled to the fhortest span,

Oh! give relief and Heaven will blefs your ftore.

HYMN TO BENEVOLENCE.

BY BLACKLOCK.

HAIL! fource of transport ever new;
While I thy ftrong impulse purfue
I tafte of joy fincere;

Too vaft for little minds to know,
Who on themselves alone bestow
Their wishes and their care.

Daughter of God! delight of man!
From thee Felicity began;

Which still thy hand fuftains:

By thee fweet Peace her empire fpread, Fair Science rais'd her laurell'd head, And Discord gnash'd in chains.

Far as the painted fun-beam flies Through peopled earth and starry skies All nature owns thy nod;

We fee its energy prevail

Through being's ever-rifing fcale,
From nothing e'en to God.

By thee infpir'd, the gen'rous breaft,
In bleffing others only bleft,

With goodness large and free, Delights the widow's tears to ftay, To teach the blind their smootheft way, And aid the feeble knee.

O come! and o'er my bofom reign,
Expand my heart, inflame cach vein,
Through every action shine;

Each low, each felfish with controul;
With all thy effence warm my foul,
And make me wholly thine.

If from thy facred paths I turn,
Nor feel their griefs, while others mourn,
Nor with their pleasures glow;

Banish'd from God, from blifs, and thee,
My own tormentor let me be,
And groan in hopeless woe.

ON THE DEATH OF STELLA.

A PASTORAL.

INSCRIBED TO HER SISTER.

"See on those ruby lips the trembling breath, "Thofe cheeks now faded at the blaft of death; "Cold is that breast which warm'd the world before, "And those love-darting eyes fhall roll no more."

POPE.

NOW purple ev'ning ting'd the blue ferene,
And milder breezes fann'd the verdant plain;
Beneath a blasted oak's portentous fhade,
To speak his grief a penfive fwain was laid :
Birds ceas'd to warble at the mournful found
The cheerful landscape fadden'd all around :
For Stella's fate he breath'd his tuneful moan ;
Love, beauty, virtue, mourn your darling gone!

O thou! by ftronger ties than blood ally'd,
Who died to pleasure, when a fifter * dy'd!'

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*A Lady diftinguished for every perfonal grace and qualification of mind which could adorn her fex and nat

ture.

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