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The warders of the growing hour,


hard to mark; And round them sea and air are dark

With great contrivances of Power.

Of many changes, aptly join'd,

Is bodied forth the second whole.

Regard gradation, lest the soul Of Discord race the rising wind;

A wind to puff your idol-fires,

And heap their ashes on the head;
To shame the boast so often made,

That we are wiser than our sires.

Oh yet, if Nature's evil star

Drive men in manhood, as in youth,

To follow flying steps of Truth Across the brazen bridge of war

If New and Old, disastrous feud,

Must ever shock, like armed foes,

And this be true, till Time shall close, That Principles are rain'd in blood;

Not yet the wise of heart would cease

To hold his hope thro' shame and guilt,

But with his hand against the hilt, Would


the troubled land, like Peace ;

Not less, though dogs of Faction bay,

Would serve his kind in deed and word,

Certain, if knowledge bring the sword, That knowledge takes the sword away

Would love the gleams of good that broke From either side, nor veil his

eyes : And if some dreadful need should rise

Would strike, and firmly, and one stroke: To-morrow yet would reap to-day,

As we bear blossom of the dead;

Earn well the thrifty months, nor wed Raw Haste, half-sister to Delay.



I KNEW an old wife lean and

poor, Her rags scarce held together ; There strode a stranger to the door,

And it was windy weather.


He held a goose upon


arm, He utter'd rhyme and reason, Here, take the goose, and keep you warm, It is a stormy season.


She caught the white goose by the leg,

A goose—'twas no great matter. The goose let fall a golden egg

With cackle and with clatter.


She dropt the goose, and caught the pelf,

And ran to tell her neighbours;
And bless'd herself, and cursed herself,

And rested from her labours.


And feeding high, and living soft,

Grew plump and able-bodied ;
Until the grave churchwarden doff'd,

smirk'd and nodded.


So sitting, served by man and maid,

She felt her heart grow prouder: But ah! the more the white


laid It clack'd and cackled louder.


It clutter'd here, it chuckled there;

It stirr'd the old wife's mettle:

She shifted in her elbow-chair,

And hurl’d the pan and kettle.

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