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Her air was fo modeft, her aspect fo meek,
So fimple, yet fweet were her charms,
I kifs'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 ftream,
Reclin'd on her bofom I fmk into fleep,
Her image still softens my dream.

Together we range o'er the flow rifing hills,
Delighted with paftoral views,

Or reft on the rock whence the ftreamlet diftills,
And mark out new themes for my mufe,

To pomp, or proud titles, the ne'er did afpire, The damfel's of humble defcent!

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 gam
Of Oberon the fairy.

E

Sweet airy being, wanton sprite,
That lurk'ft in woods unfeen,
And oft by Cynthia's filver light.
Tripp'ft gaily o'er the green;

If e'er thy pitying heart was mov'd,
As ancient stories tell,

And for th' Athenian maid who lovi,
Thou fought'ft a wond'rous fpell

Oh! deign once more t' exert thy power;
Haply fome herb or tree,
Sov'reign as juice of western flower,
Conceals a balm for me.

I afk no kind return of love,
No tempting charms to please:
Far from the heart thofe gifts remove,
That fighs for peace and ease.

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 diftrefs the foul can wound,
'Tis pain in each degree:

'Tis blifs but to a certain bound; Beyond is agony.

Take then this treach'rous fenfe of mine,

Which dooms me ftill to fmart;

Which pleasure can to pain refine,

To pain new pangs impart.

Oh4 hafte to fled the facred balm ;
My hatter'd nerves new string;
Ad for my gueft, ferenely can,
Thy nymph, Indifference, bring.

At her approach, fee Hope, fee Fear,
See Expectation fly;

And Difappointment in the rear,
That blaits the promis'd joy.

The tear which pity taught to flow,
The eye fhall then disown;
The heart that melts for others woe,
Shall then fcarce feel its own.

The wounds which now each moment bleed,
Each moment then fhall ciofle,
And tranquil days fall ftill fucceed
To nights of calm repose.

O fairy elf! but grant me this,
This one kind comfort fend;
And fo may never fading bliss
Thy flow'ry paths attend.

So may the glow-worm's glimm'ring light
Thy tiny footsteps lead

To fome new region of delight,

Unknown to mortal tread.

And be thine acorn goblet fill'd

With Heav'n's ambrofial dew:

From fiveeteft, freshest flow'rs diftill'd,
That thed freth fweets for you.

And what of life remains for me,
I'll pass in föber eafe;
Half-pleas'd, contented will I be,
Content but half to please

ON

THE IMMORTALITY

OF

THE SOUL.

IF we with brutes muft fhare a common fate,
Nor quit this earthly for a better state,
If cruel death deftroys the thinking part,
And ftrikes the fpirit as it ftrikes the heart,
Say, to what purpose was our reason given,
Reafon, the greateft, nobleft gift of Heaven?
Say, who would ever be upon their guard
'Gainft 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, every fcene is gay,
And in amufements pafs 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 fcan

See merit oft expos'd to envious hate,
The frowns of fortune, and the ftorms of fate :
See the good man by dire misfortune led,
Subfervient to the wealthy fool for bread :
There often doom'd to hear what gives offence
To truth, morality, and common fense:
Till worn with forrow, and by grief oppreft,
The weary foul fighs for its promis'd reft,
And, like the hireling working for its pay,
Welcomes the evening of a toilsome day.
If this be true, what greater proof can rife
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 foon fhall gain a heav'nly crown?
Who does on fublunary blifs depend,

That hopes a happiness which ne'er shall end?
Have courage then, ye meritorious few,
Whom ftrong temptations labour to fubdue,
Fight the good fight, and with life's latest breath,
Prove glorious victors over Sin and Death,

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