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To higher blifs I'll lead thy gentler foul,
Where endless joys in swift fucceffion roll;
To boundless pleasures, free from ev'ry strife,
Which now perplex the mazy paths of life.

True, time and diftance now obftruct the fight,
Forbid enjoyment and prolong delight;
Yet patient wait, nor let thy tongue upbraid,
Nor doubt the kindness of paternal aid.

In that bleft clime refides the KING of kings,
Who life from death, who joy from forrow brings;
Whose bounteous hand his creatures wants fupplies,
Gives all that's needful nor what's good denies.

Hafte then my fair-My ELOISA fly,
Known are our wants to his all-feeing eye;
If RICHES needful-thefe he will supply,
And if fuperfluous, with kind hand deny.

In health in sickness, or in ease or pain,
In want in plenty, or in lofs or gain;
Our duty sure to be alike refign'd,
Since either state is what himself affign'd.

FAITH'S prying eye shall view a FATHER's care,
In all we SUFFER, and in all we share;
Shall hail the trials which in life we prove,
And own AFFLICTIONS are the VOICE of love.

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IFE, like a play-thing, humours us a while;
We prize the bauble, as its trinkets smile;

Each glittering trifle ftills us for a day,

Then children-like we throw that toy away; With froward minds we long for fomething new, And still a vain variety pursue.

The diftant object which we covet most,

If once enjoy'd, is in poffeffion loft:

Those hills from far, with feeming verdure crown'd,
A closer view has bleak and barren found.
Led on by hope, we tread the fairy maze,
And eager grafp at something still to please:
A dear-bought wisdom disappointment shews;
In life's blank lottery all may fear to lose.

The MISER, anxious for his hoarded gold,
Starves in abundance, and in want grows old;
With squeezing palm he gripes his mammon faft,
And clinches clofer as he breathes his laft:
For strangers hoards his piles of mouldy pelf,
Who foon fhall wafte what he denies himself:
Penurious madman, anxious for his heap,
Lab'ring to fow what other hands must reap.
By midnight lamps the poring SAGE hás paft
His painful life, and is deceiv'd at last;


Huge volumes from his teeming thoughts he draws,
Imagin'd monuments of vaft applause,

Which shall to distant years tranfmit him down,
And teach pofterity his great renown;
Pleas'd with the profpect, he refigns his breath,
And fondly triumphs over time and death;
When lo! his works, an ufelefs lumber rot,
And are, with him, in half an age forgot.
Through foes for fame the SOLDIER hews his way,
Provoking fate, and fame shall be his pay:
For this young AMMON seeks to scale the skies,
And frantic CHARLES impartial fate defies:
'Twas this made heroes in all ages bleed,
That men unborn might envy every deed.
Deluded mortals labor oft in vain,

By death prevented ere they found their gain :
What gain, alas! can be expected here,

Where all things fail, and nothing's found fincere?
Yet human vanity afferts her claim,

And courts an empty echo for a name.

This paffion prone to lowest rank descends,
The coarseft clown for clumfy fame contends;
Ambition ebbing to its vulgar lee,

Ferments in dregs, and warms each base degree;
Since life's enjoyments weigh not half its ill,
And nothing here the human soul can fill,
To diftant objects fhe muft turn her eye,
And present wants by future hopes supply;
Such hopes, well-grounded, speak her truly wife,
-And lift her wishes to their native skies;

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Above the reach of rumours feeble founds,
And fame that circles in furviving rounds.
To grafp at happiness is all our view,
Through diff'rent tracts her footsteps we purfue;
While each his own fallacious path approyes,
As int'reft leads, or inclination moves :

Yet moft through error lose their wifh'd-for way,
Who sets out wrong must wander far aftray.

Some, plung'd in riot, seek their sov'reign good
From tilting spirits and tumultuous blood;
With large potations reason's voice depress,
And drown her clamours in the deep excess;
'Midft reeking fumes exhale their lives away,
Whilft late repentance and a swift decay,
Pursuing close at pleasure's lawless heels,
Bring all the woes defpairing frenzy feels:
When lungs decay'd, and nerves convulfive fhake,
Each pungent pang confirms the mad mistake:
Reflection then on reason's aid fhall call,
Bid prudence prop what folly dooms to fall.
In vain much wealth for happiness we try,
Soft pleasures pall, and foon as tafted die.
Ambition giddy on its fummit grows,
And crowns fit heavy on the monarch's brows;
Our knowledge too in narrow bounds confin'd,
Defrauds our hopes and disappoints the mind;
Lo! all enjoyments are imperfect here,
And pleasure's cup is ever mixt with care.
Since all conditions there my wants proclaim,
Is then this happiness an empty name?

A mere

A mere delufion in our warm embrace?
A flitting phantom which we fondly chase?
Can nothing here the eager mind sustain ??
Is health a fhadow, or is virtue vain ?
The one in absence we too late regard,
The other fails, nor is its own reward:
Continu'd health's true value's feldom known,
And virtue's strangely out of fashion grown.

As they who fail by India's fragrant shore,
Relax their speed, and every gale devour;
Bask in the breezes breath'd from spicy lands,
Yet found the rocks and fhun the fhelving fands;
To their intended coaft they flowly steer,

Enjoy the paffage, but not anchor there.

So we through life with calm content should roam, Endure the journey, not mistake our home. What here we reap is for refreshment given, Convenient stages in our way to heaven: What taste of happiness we find below, Muft from religion's facred fountain flow; When gentle paffions move obedient still, And reafon rules, and wifdom guides the will; This foul-felt calm can every ill remove,

And gives an earneft of the joys above;

Draws the bright fcene, unfolds the gates of bliss, A life celeftial, and begun in this.

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