Ere we remark another's sin,
Let our own conscience look within.
Ungovern'd wrath, and fell resentment, fly:
They rend the soul, as tempests rend the sky.
Shun peevish humours: they corrode the breast,
And cloud the brow; are childish at the best.
Learn to control your tongue, that restless thing
Of mischief oft, and shame the fatal spring.
Inscription on a Sun-Dial.
Mark well my shade, and seriously attend
The silent lesson of a common friend :-
Since time and life speed hastily away,
And no one can recall the former day.
Improve each fleeting hour before 'tis past;
And know, each fleeting hour may be thy last.
Source of true Happiness.
THE happiness of human kind
Consists in rectitude of mind,
A will subdu'd to reason's sway,
And passions practis'd to obey;
An open and a generous heart,
Refin'd from selfishness and art;
Patience which mocks at fortune's pow'r,
And wisdom neither sad nor sour.
Love to God produces Love to Men.
Let gratitude in acts of goodness flow;
Our love to God, in love to man below.
Be this our joy to calm the troubled breast,
Support the weak, and succour the distrest;
Direct the wand'rer, dry the widow's tear;
The orphan guard, the sinking spirits cheer.
Tho' small our pow'r to act, tho' mean our skill,
God sees the heart; he judges by the will,
Men mutually helpful.
Nature expects mankind should share
The duties of the public care.
Who's born for sloth? To some we find
The ploughshare's annual toil assign'd.
Some at the sounding anvil glow;
Some the swift-flying shuttle throw:
Some studious of the wind and tide,
From pole to pole, our commerce guide.
While some, with genius more refin'd,
With head and tongue assist mankind.
Thus, aiming at one common end,
Each proves to all a needful friend.
To bless, is to be blest.
When young, what honest triumph flush'd my breast This truth once known-To bless, is to be blest!
I led the bending beggar on his way;
(Bare were his feet, his tresses silver-gray ;)
Sooth'd the keen pangs his aged spirit felt,
And on his tale with mute attention dwelt.
And in his scrip I dropp'd my little store,
And wept to think that little was no more.
He breath'd his pray'r, "Long may such goodness
"Twas all he gave, 'twas all he had to give.
Epitaph on a Young Woman.
In dawn of life she wisely sought her God;
And the straight path of thorny virtue trod.
Fond to oblige, too gentle to offend;
Belov'd by all, to all the good a friend :
The bad she censur'd by her life alone;
Blind to their faults, severe upon her own:
In others' griefs a tender part she bore ;
And with the needy shar'd her little store:
At distance view'd the world with pious dread;
And to God's temple for protection fled :
There sought that peace which Heav'n alone can give,
And learn'd to die ere others learn to live.
THE LOOKING-GLASS; OR, ILL HUMOUR CORRECTED.
THERE was a little stubborn dame,
Whom no authority could tame;
Restive by long indulgence grown,
No will she minded but her own:
At trifles oft she'd scold and fret ;
Then in a corner take a seat,
And sourly moping all the day,
Disdain alike to work or play.
Papa all softer arts had tried,
And sharper remedies applied:
But both were vain; for ev'ry course
He took, still made her worse and worse.
Mama observ'd the rising lass,
By stealth retiring to the glass,
To practise little airs unseen,
In the true genius of thirteen:
On this a deep design she laid
To tame the humour of the maid;
Contriving, like a prudent mother,
To make one folly cure another.
N
Upon the wall against the seat
Which Jessy us'd for her retreat,
Whene'er by accident offended
A looking-glass was straight suspended :
That it might show her how deform'd
She look'd, and frightful, when she storm'd;
And warn her, as she priz'd her beauty,
To bend her humour to her duty.
All this the Looking-Glass achiev'd,
Its threats were minded, and believ'd.
The maid, who spurn'd at all advice,
Grew tame and gentle in a trice:
So when all other means had fail'd,
The silent monitor prevail'd.
THE BUTTERFLY AND THE SNAIL; OR, ELEVATION RENDERS LITTLE MINDS PROUD AND INSOLENT.
ALL upstarts insolent in place,
Remind us of their vulgar race.
As in the sunshine of the morn,
A Butterfly (but newly born)
Sat proudly perking on a rose :
With pert conceit his bosom glows.
His wings (all glorious to behold)
Bedropt with azure, jet and gold,
Wide be displays: the spangled dew
Reflects his eyes, and various hue.
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