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And his Amelia were a matchless pair ;
With equal virtue form'd, and equal grace,
The same, distinguish'd by their sex alone :
Hers the mild lustre of the blooming morn,
And his the radiance of the risen day.

They lov'd : But such their guileless passion was,
As in the dawn of time inform'd the heart
Of innocence, and undifsembling truth.
'Twas friendship heighten'd by the mutual with,
Th' enchanting hope, and sympathetic glow,
Beam'd from the mutual eye. Devoting all
To love, each was to each a dearer self;
Supremely happy in th' awaken'd power
Of giving joy: Alone, amid the shades,
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 tempest caught them on the tender walk,
Heedlefs how far, and where its mazes stray'd,
While, with each other bleft, creative love
Still bade eternal Eden fmile around.
Heavy with instant fate, her bosom heav'd
Unwonted fighs, and stealing oft a look
Towards the big gloom, on Celadon her eye
Fell tearful, wetting her disorder'd cheek.
In vain assuring love, and confidence
In Heaven, repress’d her fear; it grew, and shook
Her frame near diffolution. He perceiv'd
Th' unequal conflict, and as angels look
On dying faints, his eyes compassion fhed,
With love illumin’d high. ; « Fear not," he said,
“ Sweet innocence! thou stranger to offence,
“ And inward storm ! He, who yon skies involves
« In frowns of darkness, ever smiles on thee

With kind regard. O'er thee the secret shaft
" That waftes at midnight, or th' undreaded hour
« Of noon, flies harmless ; and that very voice,


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


With a Present.
L disclaim ;

ET not the hand of Amity be nice !
A trifle shall become a pledge of price,

If Friendship stamp it with her facred name.

The little rose that laughs upon its stem,

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

If tender'd as the token of esteem.
Had I vast 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.


Por. ,

From the Merchant of Venice,
HE quality of ;

It droppeth, as the gentle rain from heaven
Upon the place beneath : It is twice blefs'd;
It blefseth him that gives, and him that takes :
'Tis mightiest in the mightieft; it becomes
The throned monarch better than his crown:
His fceptre shews the force of temporal power,
The attribute to awe and majefty,
Wherein doth fit the dread and fear of kings;
But Mercy is above this sceptred sway,
It is enthroned in the hearts of kings,
It is an attribute to God himself;
And earthly power doth then shew likest God's,
When Mercy seasons justice : Therefore, Jew
Though justice be thy plea, consider this-
That, in the course of justice, none of us.
Should see falvation : We do pray for Mercy,
And that same prayer doth teach us all to render
The deeds of Mercy:-


The Man of Ross.
UT all our praises why should lords engrofs ?

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Pleas'a Vaga echoes through her winding bounds, i.
And rapid Severn hoarse applause resounds.
Who hung with woods yon mountain's sultry brow?
From the dry rock who bade the waters flow?
Not to the skies in useless columns toss’d,
Or in proud falls magnificently lost;
But clear and artless, pouring through the plain
Health to the sick, and solace to the swain.

Whose causeway parts the vale with shady rows ?
Whofe seats the weary traveller repose ?
Who taught that heav'n-directed spire to rise ?
« The Man of Ross," each lisping babe replies.
Behold the market-place with poor o'erspread!
The Man of Ross divides the weekly bread:
He feeds yon alms-house, neat, but void of state,
Where Age and Want fit smiling at the gate ;
Him portion's maids, apprentic'd orphans, blest,
The young who labour, and the old who reft.
Is any fick ? the Man of Ross relieves,
Prescribes, attends, the med'cine makes, and gives.
Is there a variance ? enter but his door,
Baulk'd are the courts, and contest is no more.
Despairing quacks with curses fled the place,
And vile attornies, now an useless race.

Thrice happy man! enabled to pursue
What all so wish, but want the power to do!
Oh say what fums that gen'rous hand supply?
What mines to fwell that boundless charity

Of debts and taxes, wife and children clear, This man poffess'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, inscription, stone! 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, search it there, where to be born and die, Of rich and poor, makes all the history ; Enough that virtue filld the space between ; Prov'd, by the ends of being, to have been. POPE. ETIRE ;


On the Being of a God.

The world shut out ; -Thy thoughts call home; Imagination's airy wing repress ;Lock up thy fenfes ;-Let no passion ftir ;Wake all to Reason-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.

What am I? and from whence ?-I nothing know, But that I am; and, since I am, conclude Something eternal, had there e'er been nought, Nought still 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 succession is so frail ; Can ev'ry part depend, and not the whole ? Yet grant it true; new difficulties rise; I'm still quite out at fea; nor fęe the shore. Whence earth, and these bright orbs ?-Eternal too? Grant matter was eternal; still these orbs Would want some other father :-Much design Is seen in all their motions, all their makes; Design implies intelligence, and art: That can't be from themselves or man; that art Man scarce can comprehend, could man beftow? And nothing greater, yet allow'd, than man.Who'motion, foreign to the smallest grain, Shot thro’ vast maries of enormous weight: 7.1 Who bid brute matter's reftive lump aflume Such various forms, and gave it wings to fly? Has matter innate motion? Then each atom, Afferting its indisputable right To dance, would form an univerfe of dust : Has matter none? Then whence these glorious forms, And boundless flights, from shapeless and repos'd ?

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