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And his Amelia were a matchless pair;
With equal virtue form'd, and equal grace,
The fame, diftinguifh'd by their fex alone:
Hers the mild luftre of the blooming morn,
And his the radiance of the rifen day.

They lov'd: But fuch their guileless passion was,
As in the dawn of time inform'd the heart
Of innocence, and undiffembling truth.

'Twas friendship heighten'd by the mutual with,
Th' enchanting hope, and fympathetic glow,
Beam'd from the mutual eye. Devoting all
To love, each was to each a dearer felf;
Supremely happy in th' awaken'd power
Of giving joy. Alone, amid the fhades,
Still in harmonious intercourse they liv'd
The rural day, and talk'd the flowing heart,
Or figh'd, and look'd unutterable things.

So pafs'd their life, a clear united stream,
By care unruffled: Till, in evil hour,
The tempeft caught them on the tender walk,
Heedlefs how far, and where its mazes ftray'd,
While, with each other bleft, creative love
Still bade eternal Eden fmile around.
Heavy with inftant fate, her bofom heav'd
Unwonted fighs, and ftealing oft a look
Tow'ards the big gloom, on Celadon her eye
Fell tearful, wetting her diforder'd cheek.
In vain affuring love, and confidence

In Heaven, reprefs'd her fear; it grew, and fhook
Her frame near diffolution. He perceiv'd
Th' unequal conflict, and as angels look
On dying faints, his eyes compaffion fhed,
With love illumin'd high. Fear not," he faid,
"Sweet innocence! thou ftranger to offence,
"And inward storm! HE, who yon skies involves
"In frowns of darkness, ever fmiles on thee

With kind regard. O'er thee the fecret thaft "That waftes at midnight, or th' undreaded hour "Of noon, flies harmlefs; and that very voice,

"Which thunders terror thro' the guilty heart, "With tongues of feraphs whifpers peace to thine. ""Tis fafety to be near thee, fure, and thus "To clafp perfection !"-From his void embrace, (Mysterious heaven!) that moment, to the ground, A blacken'd corfe, was ftruck the beauteous maid. But who can paint the lover, as he stood, Pierc'd by fevere amazement, hating life, Speechlefs, and fix'd in all the death of woe! So, faint resemblance! on the marble tomb, The well-diffembled mourner stooping stands, For ever filent, and for ever fad.

THOMSON.

With a Present.

LET not the hand

ET not the hand of Amity be nice!

Nor the poor tribute of the heart disclaim;

A trifle fhall become a pledge of price,

If Friendship stamp it with her facred name.

The little rofe that laughs upon its ftem,

One of the sweets with which the gardens teem, In value foars above an eaftern gem,

If tender'd as the token of esteem.

Had I vaft hoards of maffy wealth to fend,
Such as your merits might demand-their due!
Then should the golden tribute of your friend
Rival the treasures of the rich Peru.

CUNNINGHAM.

From the Merchant of Venice,

Por. THE quality of Mercy is not strain'd's
It droppeth, as the gentle rain from heaven
Upon the place beneath: It is twice blefs'd;
It bleffeth him that gives, and him that takes :
'Tis mightiest in the mightieft; it becomes
The throned monarch better than his crown:
His fceptre fhews the force of temporal power,
The attribute to awe and majesty,

Wherein doth fit the dread and fear of kings;
But Mercy is above this fceptred fway,
It is enthroned in the hearts of kings,

It is an attribute to God himself;

And earthly power doth then fhew likeft God's,
When Mercy feafons juftice: Therefore, Jew
Though juftice be thy plea, confider this-
That, in the course of justice, none of us.
Should fee falvation: We do pray for Mercy;
And that fame prayer doth teach us all to render
The deeds of Mercy.

SHAKESPEAR.

BUT

The Man of Ross.

UT all our praises why fhould lords engrofs ? Rife, honeft Mufe! and fing the Man of Rofs Pleas'd Vaga echoes through her winding bounds, I And rapid Severn hoarse applause refounds.

Who hung with woods yon mountain's fultry brow?
From the dry rock who bade the waters flow?
Not to the skies in useless columns tofs'd,
Or in proud falls magnificently loft;

But clear and artlefs, pouring through the plain
Health to the fick, and folace to the swain.

Whofe caufeway parts the vale with fhady rows?
Whose feats the weary traveller repose?

Who taught that heav'n-directed spire to rife?
"The Man of Rofs," each lifping babe replies.
Behold the market-place with poor o'erfpread!
The Man of Rofs divides the weekly bread:
He feeds yon alms-house, neat, but void of state,
Where Age and Want fit fmiling at the gate;
Him portion'd maids, apprentic'd orphans, bleft,
The young who labour, and the old who reft.
Is any fick? the Man of Rofs relieves,
Prefcribes, attends, the med'cine makes, and gives.
Is there a variance? enter but his door,
Baulk'd are the courts, and conteft is no more.
Defpairing quacks with curfes fled the place,
And vile attornies, now an useless race.

Thrice happy man! enabled to purfue
What all fo with, but want the power to do!
Oh fay what fums that gen'rous hand supply?
What mines to fwell that boundless charity?

Of debts and taxes, wife and children clear, This man poffefs'd-five hundred pounds a year. Blush, Grandeur, blush! proud Courts, withdraw your blaze!

Ye little Stars, hide your diminish'd rays!

And what! no monument, infcription, ftone!
His race, his form, his name almost unknown!

Who builds a church to God, and not to Fame,
Will never mark the marble with his name:
Go, fearch it there, where to be born and die,
Of rich and poor, makes all the history;
Enough that virtue fill'd the space between;
Prov'd, by the ends of being, to have been.

POPE.

On the Being of a God.

RETIRE The world shut out;

thoughts call home;

Imagination's airy wing reprefs;

Lock up thy fenfes ;-Let no paffion stir ;-
Wake all to Reafon-Let her reign alone;
Then, in thy foul's deep filence, and the depth
Of Nature's filence, midnight, thus enquire,
As I have done.-

Thy

What am I? and from whence ?—I nothing know, But that I am; and, fince I am, conclude

Something eternal; had there e'er been nought,
Nought ftill had been: Eternal there must be.
But what eternal ?Why not human race?
And Adam's ancestors without an end?-
That's hard to be conceiv'd; fince every link
Of that long-chain'd fucceffion is fo frail;
Can ev'ry part depend, and not the whole?
Yet grant it true; new difficulties rife;
I'm ftill quite out at fea; nor fee the fhore.
Whence earth, and thefe bright orbs?-Eternal too?
Grant matter was eternal; still these orbs
Would want fome other father :-Much defign
Is feen in all their motions, all their makes;
Design implies intelligence, and art:
That can't be from themselves or man; that art
Man fcarce can comprehend, could man beftow?
And nothing greater, yet allow'd, than man.-
Who motion, foreign to the fmallest grain,
Shot thro' vaft maffes of enormous weight! 7.
Who bid brute matter's reftive lump affume
Such various forms, and gave it wings to fly?
Has matter innate motion? Then each atom,
Afferting its indifputable right

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To dance, would form an univerfe of duft:

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Has matter none? Then whence these glorious forms, And boundless flights, from shapeless and repos'd?

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