"In what fequefter'd defert, haft thou drawn "The kindeft afpect of delighted Heaven? "Into fuch beauty fpread, and blown so fair, "Though poverty's cold wind, and crushing rain, "Beat keen and heavy on thy tender years? "O let me now into a richer foil "Transplant thee fafe! where vernal funs and fhow'rs "Diffufe their warmest, largest influence; "And of my garden be the pride and joy! "Ill it befits thee, oh, it ill befits "Acafto's daughter, his, whofe open stores, "Though vaft, were little to his ampler heart, "The father of a country, thus to pick "The very refufe of thofe harvest-fields, "Which from his bounteous friendship I enjoy! "Then throw that fhameful pittance from thy hand, "But ill apply'd to fuch a rugged task; "The fields, the mafter, all, my Fair, are thine, If to the various bleffings which thy houfe "Has on me lavifh'd, thou wilt add that blifs, "That dearest blifs, the power of bleffing thee!" Here ceas'd the youth: but ftill his speaking eye In fweet diforder loft, she blush'd confent. Amaz'd, and fcarce believing what the heard, Of fetting life fhone on her evening hours: THE UNIVERSAL PRAYER. BY POPE. FATHER of all! in ev'ry age Thou great firft caufe, leaft understood, To know but this, that thou art good Yet gave me in this dark eftate, What confcience dictates to be done, This, teach me more than hell to shun, What bleffings Thy free bounty gives, For God is paid when man receives; Yet not to earth's contracted span Let not this weak, unknowing hand, * If I am right, thy grace impart, Save me alike from foolish pride, At aught thy wisdom has deny'd, Teach me to feel another's woe, That mercy I to others fhew, That mercy fhew to me. Mean though I am, not wholly fo, Through this day's life or death. This day, be bread and peace my lot; To thee, whofe temple is all space, THE PROVIDENCE. AN HYMN. BY ADDISON. HE Lord my pafture fhall prepare, And feed me with a fhepherd's care! His prefence hall my wants fupply, And guard me with a watchful eye; My noon-day walk he shall attend, And all my midnight hours defend. When in the fultry glebe I faint, Though in the paths of death I tread, Though in a bare and rugged way, |