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Mispending all thy precious hours,

Thy glorious, youthful prime!
Alternate Follies take the sway;
Licentious Paffions burn;

Which tenfold force gives Nature's law,
That Man was made to mourn.

V.

Look not alone on youthful Prime,
Or Manhood's active might;
Man then is ufeful to his kind,

Supported is his right:

But fee him on the edge of life,

With Cares and Sorrows worn,

Then Age and Want, Oh! ill-match'd pair! Show Man was made to mourn.

VI.

A few feem favourites of Fate,

In Pleasure's lap careft;

Yet, think not all the Rich and Great,

Are likewife truly bleft.

But Oh! what crouds in ev'ry land,

All wretched and forlorn,

Thro' weary life this leffon learn,

That Man was made to mourn!

VII.

Many and sharp the num'rous Ills
Inwoven with our frame !

More pointed ftill we make ourselves,
Regret, Remorse and Shame!

And Man, whofe heav'n-erected face,

The fmiles of love adorn,

Man's inhumanity to Man

Makes countless thousands mourn!

VIII.

See, yonder poor, o'erlabour'd wight,

So abject, mean and vile,

Who begs a brother of the earth

To give him leave to toil;

And fee his lordly fellow-worm,

The poor petition fpurn,

Unmindful, tho' a weeping wife,

And helpless offspring mourn.

IX.

If I'm defign'd yon lordling's flave,
By Nature's law defign'd,
Why was an independent wish

E'er planted in my mind?

If not, why am I fubject to

His cruelty, or scorn?

Or why has Man the will and pow'r

To make his fellow mourn?

X. .

Yet, let not this too much, my Son,

Disturb thy youthful breast: This partial view of human-kind

Is furely not the laft!

The poor, oppreffed, honeft man

Had never, fure, been born, Had there not been fome recompence To comfort thofe that mourn!

XI.

O Death! the poor man's dearest friend, The kindeft and the beft!

Welcome the hour, my aged limbs

Are laid with thee at reft!

The Great, the Wealthy fear thy blow, From pomp and pleasure torn;

But Oh! a bleft relief for those

That weary-laden mourn!

-*

**

WINTER,

ADIR GE.

Τ

I.

HE Wintry West extends his blast,

And hail and rain does blaw;

Or, the ftormy North fends driving forth,

The blinding fleet and snaw:

While, tumbling brown, the Burn comes down,

And roars frae bank to brae;

And bird and beaft, in covert, reft,

And pass the heartless day.

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