His strength to suffer, and his will to serve.
But O thou bounteous giver of all good,
Thou art of all thy gifts thyself the crown!
Give what thou canst, without thee we are poor;
And with thee rich, take what thou wilt away.

OCT. 1.1817.

NO NEW YORK IBLIC LIBRART

, LENOY AND

TLICH FOUNDATIONS

THE TASK.

BOOK VI.

THE WINTER WALK AT NOON.

Bells at a distance-Their effect.-A fine noon in winter.-A sheltered walk. Meditation better than books.-Our familiarity with the course of nature makes it appear less wonderful than it is.-The transformation that spring effects in a shrubbery described.—A mistake concerning the course of nature corrected.-God maintains it by an unremitted act.-The amusements fashionable at this hour of the day reproved.-Animals happy, a delightful sight.-Origin of cruelty to animals.—That it is a great crime proved from Scripture. That proof illustrated by a tale.-A line drawn between the lawful and unlawful destruction of them.-Their good and useful properties insisted on.-Apology for the encomiums bestowed by the author on animals.-Instances of man's extravagant praise of man. The groans of the creation shall have an end.-A view taken of the restoration of all things.-An invocation and an invitation of Him who shall bring it to pass.-The retired man vindicated from the charge of uselessness.-Conclusion.

THERE is in souls a sympathy with sounds,
And as the mind is pitch'd the ear is pleas'd
With melting airs or martial, brisk or grave;
Some chord in unison with what we hear

Is touch'd within us, and the heart replies.
How soft the music of those village bells,
Falling at intervals upon the ear

In cadence sweet, now dying all away,
Now pealing loud again, and louder still,
Clear and sonorous, as the gale comes on!
With easy force it opens all the cells
Where Mem'ry slept. Wherever I have heard
A kindred melody, the scene recurs,
And with it all its pleasures and its pains.
Such comprehensive views the spirit takes,
That in a few short moments I retrace
(As in a map the voyager his course)
The windings of my way through many years.
Short as in retrospect the journey seems,
It seem'd not always short; the rugged path,
And prospect oft so dreary and forlorn,
Mov'd many a sigh at its disheart'ning length.
Yet feeling present evils, while the past
Faintly impress the mind, or not at all,
How readily we wish time spent revok❜d,
That we might try the ground again, where once
(Through inexperience, as we now perceive)
We miss'd that happiness we might have found!
Some friend is gone, perhaps, his son's best friend,
A father, whose authority, in show

When most severe, and must'ring all its force,
Was but the graver countenance of love;

Whose favour, like the clouds of spring, might low'r,

And utter now and then an awful voice,