But college sophs of modern times, Will praise the fair in well turn'd rhymes, He talks of gaining hearts of beaux, But whether they have hearts to lose, Ah! sly observer, deeply read In Nature's ample page; Too well you know that beaux well-bred, In this self-loving age, In panoply of lead and brass Their cautious hearts unfold, Which beauty cannot pierce, alas! The jealous God, from glittering scenes On purple pinions flies, To dwell where Truth and Nature reigns, And victims pure supplies. To rights of men a foe confest, A despot o'er the generous breast, He loves to rule alone. Tho' beaux should yawn, or oysters gape, He whom the Muses all regard, HYMN FOR THE SONS OF THE CLERGY. And behold I have taken the Levites from among the "children of Israel.” NUMBERS III, 12. How blest those olive plants that grow Where streams of fresh instruction flow 'Twas thus the swallow rear'd her young, Of whom the Royal Prophet sung, When, like the swallow's tender brood, Where'er they roam, where'er they rest, Still may the streams of grace divine Still may they with fraternal love Each other's shield and aid become; And while thro' distant realms they rove, Remember still their childhood's home; The simple life, the frugal fare, The kind parental counsels given, The tender love, the pious care, That early winged their hopes to heav'n. ? And when the evening shades decline, And holier, happier climes explore. And when the faithful shepherds view T4 |