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Anxious to please.-Oh! when my friend and I
Beauty—thou pretty plaything, dear deceit, That steals so softly o'er the stripling's heart, And gives it a new pulse, unknown before, The grave discredits thee: thy charms expung'd, Thy roses faded, and thy lilies soil'd, What hast thou more to boast of? Will thy lovers Flock round thee now, to gaze and do thee homage? Methinks I see thee with thy head low laid, Whilst surfeited upon thy damask cheek The high fed worm, in lazy volumes rollid, Riots unscar'd.- -For this, was all thy caution?
For this, thy painful labours at thy glass?
Sure 'tis a serious thing to die! My soul, What a strange moment must it be, when near Thy journey's end, thou hast the gulf in view! That awful gulf no mortal e'er repass'd To tell what's doing on the other side. Nature runs back, and shudders at the sight, And every life-string bleeds at thoughts of parting; For part they must: body and soul must part; Fond couple; link'd more close than wedded pair. This wings its way to its almighty source, The witness of its actions, now its judge; That drops into the dark and noisome grave, Like a disabled pitcher of no use.
Tell us, ye dead, will none of you, in pity To those you left behind, disclose the secret? Oh! that some courteous ghost would blab it out; What 'tis you are, and we must shortly be. I've heard, that souls departed have sometimes Forewarn’d men of their death :--'Twas kindly done
To knock, and give the alarm. But what means
of his life. -Thus hand in hand The sot has walk'd with death twice twenty years ; And yet ne'er yonker on the green laughs louder, Or clubs a smuttier tale :- When drunkards meet, None sings a merrier catch, or lends a hand ,
More willing to his cup.-Poor wretch! he minds
not That soon some trusty brother of the trade Shall do for him what he has done for thousands,
Poor man!-how happy once in thy first state ! When yet but warm from thy great Maker's hand, He stamp'd thee with his image, and, well pleas'd, Smil'd on his last fair work. Then all was well. Sound was the body, and the soul serene; Like two sweet instruments, ne'er out of tune, That play their several parts.-Nor head, nor heart, Offer'd to ache: nor was there cause they should; For all was pure within: no fell remorse, Nor anxious castings-up of what might be, Alarm'd his peaceful bosom.-Summer seas Show not more smooth, when kiss'd by southern
winds Just ready to expire-scarce importund, The generous soil, with a luxurious hand, Offer'd the various produce of the year, And ev'ry thing most perfect in its kind. Blessed! thrice blessed days ! But ah! how short! Bless'd as the pleasing dreams of holy men; But fugitive like those, and quickly gone. Oh! slipp'ry state of things.- What sudden turns ! What strange vicissitudes in the first leaf Of man's sad history To-day most happy, And ere to-morrow's sun has set, most abject.
How scant the space between these vast extremes!
Sure the last end
High in his faith and hopes), look how he reaches