« 上一頁繼續 »
Her veil opaque, discloses with a smite
The author os her beauties, who, retir'd
Behind his own creation,' works unseen
By the impure, and hears his pow'r denied.
Thou art the source and centre os all mindsj
Their only point os rest, Eternal Word!
From thee departing, they are lost, and rove
At random, without honour, hope or, peace,
From thee is all that soothes the lise os man.
His high endeavour, and his glad success,
His strength to suffer, and his will to serve,
But, oh! thou bounteous Giver os all Good,
Thou art os all thy gists thysels the crown!
Give what thou canst; without thee we are poor.
And with thee rich, take what thou wilt away.
BY THE S4ME.
HOW various his employments, whom the world
Dress'd to his taste inviting him abroad—
Can he want occupation who has these?
Will he be idle who has much t' enjoy?
Me, theresore, studious os laborious ease,
Not flothsul; happy to deceive the time*
Not waste it; and aware that human lise
Is but a loan to be repaid with use,
When he shall call his debtors to account,
From whom are all our blessings, business sind
Ev'n here. " While sedulous I seek t' improve,
At least neglect not, or leave uncmploy'd
The mind he gave; driving it, though flack
Too ost and much impeded in his work
By causes not to be divulg'd in vain,
To its just point—the service os mankind.
He that attends to his interior sels,
That has a heart and keeps it: has a mind
That hungers and supplies it; and who seeks
A social, not a dissipated lise,
Has business. Feels himsels engaged to atchieve
No unimportant, though a silent task.
A life all turbulence and noise may seem
To him that leads it wise, and to be prais'rf;
But wisdom is a pearl with most success
Sought in still water, ant) beneath clear skies.
He that is ever occupied in storms,
Or dives not sor it, or brings up instead,
Vainly industrious, a disgracesul prize.
BY TUE SAME.
OH sor a lodge in some vast wilderness,
With stripes, that Mercy with a bleeding heart
Weeps when she sees inflicted on a beast.
Then what is man? And what man seeing this,
And having human seelings, d«es not blush
And hang his head, to think himsels a man ?•
I would not have a flave to till my ground,
To carry me, to san me while I fleep,
And tremble when I wake, sor all the wealth
That sinews bought and sold have ever earn'd.
No; dear as sreedom is, and in my heart's
Just estimation priz'd above all price,
I had much rather be mysels the flave,
And wear the bonds, than sasten them on him;
We have no flaves at home—then why abroad?
And they themselves once serried o'er the wave
That parts us, are emancipate and loos'c.
Slaves cannot breathe in England, is their lungs
Receive the air, that moment they are sree,
They touch our country, and their shakles salt
That's noble, and bespeaks a nation proud
And jealous os the blessing. Spread it then,
And let it circulate through ev'ry vein,
Os all your empire. That where Britain's power
Is selt, mankind may seel her merey too.
A NIGHT PIECE,
BY the blue taper's trembling light