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"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,

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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
Exprefs'd the fecret triumph of his foul,
With conscious virtue, gratitude, and love,
Above the vulgar joy divinely rais'd.
Nor waited he reply. Won by the charm
Of goodness irrefiftible, and all

In fweet diforder loft, she blush'd confent.
The news immediate to her mother brought,
While pierc'd with anxious thought, the pin'd away
The lonely moments for Lavinia's fate;

Amaz'd, and fcarce believing what the heard,
Joy feiz'd her wither'd veins, and one bright gleam

Of fetting life fhone on her evening hours:
Not lefs enraptur'd than the happy pair,
Who flourish'd long in tender blifs, and rear'd
A numerous offspring, lovely like themselves,
And good, the grace of all the country round..

THE UNIVERSAL PRAYER.

BY POPE.

FATHER of all! in ev'ry age
In ev'ry clime ador'd,
By Saint, by Savage, and by Sage,
Jehovah, Jove, or Lord!

Thou great firft caufe, leaft understood,
Who all my fense confin'd,

To know but this, that thou art good
And that myself am blind.

Yet gave me in this dark eftate,
To fee the good from ill;
And binding nature faft in fate,
Left free the human will.

What confcience dictates to be done,
Or warns me not to do,

This, teach me more than hell to shun,
That, more than Heav'n pursue.

What bleffings Thy free bounty gives,
Let me not cast away;

For God is paid when man receives;
T'enjoy is to obey.

Yet not to earth's contracted span
Thy goodness let me bound,
Or think thee Lord alone of man,
When thousand worlds are round.

Let not this weak, unknowing hand,
Prefume thy bolts to throw,
And deal damnation round the land
On each I judge thy foe.

*

If I am right, thy grace impart,
Still in the right to stay:
If I am wrong, oh teach my heart
To find that better way.

Save me alike from foolish pride,
Or impious difcontent

At aught thy wisdom has deny'd,
Or aught thy goodness lent.

Teach me to feel another's woe,
To hide the fault I fee;

That mercy I to others fhew,

That mercy fhew to me.

Mean though I am, not wholly fo,
Since quicken'd by Thy breath;
O lead me wherefoe'er I go,

Through this day's life or death.

This day, be bread and peace my lot;
All elfe beneath the fun,
Thou know'ft if best bestow'd or not,
And let thy will be done.

To thee, whofe temple is all space,
Whofe altar, earth, fea, skies!
One chorus let all beings raife!
All Nature's incenfe rife!

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,
Or on the thirsty mountain pant;
To fertile vales and dewy meads
My weary wand'ring fteps he leads :
Where peaceful rivers, foft and flow,
Amid the verdant landscape flow.

Though in the paths of death I tread,
With gloomy horrors overspread,
My stedfaft heart fhall fear no ill,
For thou, O Lord, art with me ftill;
Thy friendly crook fhall give me aid,
And guide me through the dreadful sliade,

Though in a bare and rugged way,
Through devious lonely wilds I stray,
Thy bounty fhall my pains beguile :
The barren wildernefs fhall fimile,
With fudden greens and herbage crown'd,
And ftreams fhall nurmur all around.

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