Her air was so modest, her aspect fo meek,

So fimple, yet sweet were her charms, I kiss'd the ripe roses that glow'd on her cheek,

And lock'd the lov'd maid in my arms.

Now jocund together we tend a few sheep,

And if, on the banks by the stream, Reclin’d on her bosom I smk into sleep,

Her image still softens my dream. Together we range o'er the flow rising hills,

Delighted with pastoral views, Or reft on the rock whence the streamlet diftills,

And mark out new themes for my muse,

To

pomp, or proud titles, she ne'er did aspire,

The damisel's of humble descent! The cottager, Peace, is well known for her fire,

And shepherds have nam'd her-Content.

A PRAYER FOR INDIFFERENCE.

BY MRS. GREVILLE.

OFT I've implor’d the gods in vain,

And pray'd till I've been weary ;
For once I'll try my wish to gain
Of Oberon the fairy.

E

Sweet airy being, wanton sprite,

That lurk'st in woods unseen,
And oft by Cynthia's filver light.

Tripp'ít gaily o'er the green ;
If e'er thy pitying heart was movid,

As ancient stories tell,
And for th' Athenian maid who lov,

Thou sought'st a wond'rous spell joc Oh! deign once more t’exert thy power;

Haply. some herb or tree, Sov'reign as juice of western flower,

Conceals a balm for me.

I ask no kind return of love,

No tempting charms to please :
Far from the heart those gifts remove,

· That fighs for peace and eale.

Nor peace nor ease the heart can know,

Which, like the needle true,
Turns at the touch of joy or woe,

But, turning, trembles too.
Far as distress the soul can wound,

'Tis pain in each degree :
'Tis bliss but to a certain bound;

Beyond is agony. Take then this treach'rous Tense of mine,

Which dooms me fill to finart; Which pleasure can to pain refine,

To pain new pangs impart.

Oh! haste to Med the sacred balm ;

My Matter'd nerves new string ; Al for my guest, ferenely calen,

Thy nymph, Indifference, bring.
At her approach, see Hope, see Fear,

See Expectation fly;
And Disappointment in the rear,

That blålts the promis'd joy.
The tear which pitý taught to flow,

The eye shall then disown ;
The heart that melts for others woe,

Shall then scarce feel its own.
The sounds which now each moment bleed,

Eaclı moment then shall ciole, And tranquil days fall still succeed

To nights of calı repose.

O fairy elf! but grant me this,

This one kind comfort send; And so may never, fading bliss

Thy flow'ry paths attend.
So may the glow-worm's glimm'ring light

Tliy tiny footsteps lead
To fome new region of delight,

Unknown to mortal tread.

And be thine acorn goblet fillid

With Heav'n's ambrofial dew : From liveetelt, freshest flow'rs diftillid,

That thed freth sweets for you.

And what of life remains for me,

I'll pass in sober ease;
Half-pleas'd, contented will I be,

Content but half to please

ON

THE IMMORTALITY

OF

THE SOUL.

IF

we with brutes must share a common fate,

Nor quit this earthly for a better state, If cruel death destroys the thinking part, And strikes the spirit as it strikes the heart, Say, to what purpose was our reason given, Reason, the greatest, noblest gift of Heaven i Say, who would ever he upon their guard "Gainit vice, if virtue meets with no reward ? Much happier does the libertine appear, Who drinks of pleasure's cup without a fear : His days are jovial, cvery scene is gay, And in amusements pass his time away ; 'Till the last period of his life is come, And death conducts him to the filent tomb.

Turn from this picture of earth's happy man, And let us that of virtue's votaries (can :

See merit oft expos'd to envious hate,
The frowns of fortune, and the storms of fate :
See the good man by dire misfortune led,
Subservient to the wealthy fool for bread :
There often doom'd to hear what gives offence
To truth, morality, and common sense :
Till worn with sorrow, and by grief opprest,
The weary foul figh's for its promis'd rest,
And, like the hireling working for its pay,
Welcomes the evening of a toilfome day.
If this be true, what greater proof can rise
That virtue blooms but in her native skies?

The charming plant, here nurs’d with tender care,
By death transplanted, yields its produce there.
: This thought alone can the good man sustain,
And give him ease in poverty and pain.
Who will not calmly bear ftern fortune's frown,
That knows he soon shall gain a heav'nly crown?
Who does on sublunary bliss depend,
That hopes a happiness which ne'er shall end ?
Have courage tlien, ye meritorious few,
Whom (trong temptations labour to subdue,
Fight the good fight, and with life's latest breath,
Prove glorious victors over Sin and Death,